


The Endless Line Of Recovery

by Kateis_Cakeis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Coming Out, F/F, F/M, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Recovery, Suicide Attempt, The Goat Farm, Therapy, Wakanda, video calls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-06-18 22:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 71,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15495621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateis_Cakeis/pseuds/Kateis_Cakeis
Summary: Steve was having a hard time. A real hard time. Bucky was in cryo. SHIELD was on course to become legitimised again. HYDRA stragglers were all over the place. Chitauri weapons were sweeping across the world.All in all, Steve was tired of it all. But someone had to do the job. Maybe, one day, he’d get to retire with Bucky, somewhere safe.All Bucky had to do was recover. All Steve had to do was work out his shit.Perhaps then, anything could happen.





	1. Healing Takes Time

Steve sat, staring. He was well aware he shouldn’t. Hell, he should have been with Nat, who was tracking down HYDRA stragglers. Or he should have been with Wanda and Sam, who were keeping an eye on SHIELD for the time being. With the rumours that the underground organisation had an inhuman as director, the team had decided it was best to ensure nothing fishy was going on. Last thing they needed was another problem caused by SHIELD letting down their guard.

But Steve was in Wakanda. Staring. Looking into the cryo chamber, with his gaze set on Bucky’s peaceful expression. He wished, oh did he wish, that Bucky would be okay and fine and could be woken up. Yet, it had only been three months, and in that time, Wakanda had to deal with a takeover.

Shuri had told Steve what happened, leaving out plenty of details. He supposed it had been too hard on them all. Fighting against their own people for a cause that died as quickly as it arrived. Shuri said that it had been a hollow victory, as they had lost a little too much. Then again, losing a cousin you didn’t know existed in a war he started was always going to bring about strange emotions.

To pull him from his thoughts, Steve’s phone vibrated. He swiftly retrieved it from his pocket, seeing the caller was Wanda. He had expected Nat, since HYRDA stragglers were more dangerous than SHIELD rebuilding itself.

As he answered, Wanda was hasty to say, “he’s alive.”

“Who?”

“Phil Coulson.”

Steve furrowed his brows as he stood. It surely couldn’t be true. Coulson died believing in heroes. The reason the Avengers assembled was because Coulson had faith in them. And now he was alive? “Are you sure…? He was dead. Loki killed him.”

“I have eyes on him right now.”

“How?”

Steve heard rustling before Sam’s voice boomed down the phone. “In the leaked SHIELD files there’s a scrapped project called TAHITI. It was supposed to be used to resurrect a fallen Avenger.”

Steve planted a hand on his hip, breathing deeply. “Do you know anything else?”

“The files are almost completely redacted.”

There was more rustling as the phone was passed back to Wanda. “It was only used once, on Fury’s order.”

“Coulson was important to Fury...” As if that was enough to justify it. “How long has he been alive?”

Wanda sighed. “We think since 2012.”

All that time? All that time and Fury never said a word, to any of them? The Avengers may have only come together after his death, but letting them believe he was dead for all those years? That wasn’t nearly fair. It was only another reason on why Fury couldn’t be trusted wholeheartedly.

“Inform everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes.” Steve sent one last look at Bucky before leaving the room. “And where is he?”

\--

“You know, it was a shame those trading cards were ruined,” Steve said, towards a newspaper. He was wearing a baseball cap that angled down, covering his face enough. The shadows from it easily hid the stubble that was beginning to grow into a beard.

A man stepped towards the bar, where Steve was sitting at. It was a dark environment, with low music. The perfect place for secret talks. “How did you find me?”

“My team has been keeping an eye on SHIELD.” Steve glanced to him, seeing Coulson not even trying to keep his face hidden anymore.

“We’re not HYRDA.”

He scoffed. “You might as well be.”

Coulson sat, staring into the distance. “SHIELD is still needed.”

“If you’re adamant on keeping it around, don’t let the enemy rise in your ranks.”

“I assure you, after what happened the last time, we’re more aware.”

Steve gave a curt nod. He dove a hand into his jacket, pulling something from his pocket. He slid it over to Coulson, who stared down at it.

A smile spread across Coulson’s lips. “You signed them.”

“You’re one of the good ones.” Steve shrugged. “Good enough to trust.”

“Thank you, Cap.”

“That’s… not who I am anymore.”

Coulson furrowed his brows, standing from his seat and pocketing the cards. “Who are you now?”

“Myself.”

“Good.”

And then he was gone. Steve was left staring at his newspaper, at an article that detailed sightings of the ‘War Criminal Steve Rogers’. While the TV in the background drivelled on about the Sokovia Accords and how inhumans were registering more and more by the day.

Steve folded up his newspaper, downed the last of his drink he knew had no effect on him, and strolled out of the bar. He made his way through the streets until he ducked into an alleyway and hopped onto a motorbike, riding off.

As soon as the streets melded into long roads that saw no end, Steve ended up down a track where a hidden (and cloaked) quinjet lay. He stepped into it, leaving behind the – likely stolen – motorbike.

Onboard, Sam and Wanda both sat, and Steve sent a nod their way.

“Scotland?” he asked Wanda.

“Yeah… I think I’ll like it there.”

Sam smiled. “It’ll be nice for you. You deserve it, kid.”

Wanda frowned, looking at both Steve and Sam. “Don’t you deserve to stop as well?”

Steve sat in the pilot’s seat, getting the quinjet off the ground. “Eventually.”

“We can’t afford to quit now,” Sam said.

Wanda kept frowning, despite the replies. If everyone else in their fugitive team got the chance to stop, got to live, why couldn’t Steve, Sam and Nat quit the fighting too?

Sam noticed her internal conflict. “There’s too much going on not to do something.”

She nodded at that, finding peace in it. Maybe the remains of the team could do some good. Maybe.

\--

Rundown hotels, motels and B&B’s were all the three could get away with for accommodation. Anything classier and it would risk not only their freedom, but the lives of others too. Chasing down past HYDRA agents, taking Chitauri fuelled weapons off the market and any other mission that seemed suitable protected many innocent lives, and with only three of them on the attack, it was much easier not to cause indirect damage.

And their reward? Neglected places to stay. It was good enough, considering the alternative. But it weighed down on them as more time went on. And the fact that they only booked double rooms didn’t help at all.

“I’ll take the floor tonight,” Steve said, already setting out a sleeping bag.

Sam lay back on one of the beds. “Where to next?”

“Abandoned HYDRA base where terrorists are storing Chitauri weapons.”

“Is that a combo?”

Nat laughed as she ducked out the bathroom. “It’s a triple combo because of the base.”

“And then we’ll take a break?” Sam wondered. It had been a good few months since they dropped off Wanda, and a month or so since they had a break. Christmas was just around the corner. Which meant their sleazy hotel of the week had cheap decorations all around, including sparking fairy lights and a broken angel at the top of the small tree in the lobby.

“That ready to get rid of us, Sam?” Nat teased, throwing herself onto the remaining bed.

“Yes. I can’t wait to go to Europe.”

“We were in Europe last month,” Steve said. Though, his tone came with a hint of sarcasm.

“I mean the Europe with the beach bars.”

Nat placed her hands behind her head. “It’ll be Brazil for me. How about you, Steve?”

“You both know where I’ll be going.”

Sam and Nat shared a glance, knowing fine well Steve couldn’t see them on the ground. They silently conversed until Nat expectantly raised her eyebrows, which resulted in Sam sitting up.

“Is that healthy?”

“What do you mean?” Steve sat up, his brow furrowed.

“Staring into Bucky’s cryo chamber isn’t good for you.”

Steve sighed and lay back down. “What else am I supposed to do?”

Sam shrugged. “Come with me to Europe.”

“Yeah, Steve, you can help Sam get laid.” Nat braced herself as a spare cushion hit off her face. She glared at Sam but didn’t make a move to retaliate.

“I’d rather go to Wakanda.”

“Why?” Nat pressed.

“You know why.”

At that, Sam and Nat left the topic well alone. Nat had dragged Sam to one side many a time, pulling up the topic of Steve and his issues. Mainly his metal health issues. Albeit, he never let them shine through, but being so close to Steve for so many months really highlighted that he wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot.

The following day, the three suited up and drove to the base. They were in the middle of nowhere, along the dusty roads of America, not even completely sure what state they were in anymore. They just followed chatter and any information they could dig up. Sometimes they would follow reports of armed robberies which had strange weapons involved. They could track those back to the original source, as the weapons were definitely being smuggled in. From where, they didn’t know yet.

Once they got close enough, Sam flew up and began scouting the roof, while Nat and Steve snuck through an unguarded door. Perhaps these terrorists weren’t up to scratch. Leaving an entrance open like that was sloppy at best.

Nat climbed to the higher levels, ignoring the stairs. In silence, she went off to knock down a few guards. Meanwhile, Steve followed vague sounds that were akin to whispering. It came from behind a door, so, he kicked it open and stormed into the room. Swiftly, he noticed seven people were scrambling for their hyped-up weapons in a room full of handy metal desks.

He got a few shots in, sending one guy down and injuring another, before the weapons charged up and began shooting back. The room illuminated with the colour purple, which worried Steve to no end. He dove down to the nearest table and flipped it over. With his quick reactions, nothing hit him, which he was glad for since the weapons had such a high power it would easily kill him if he wasn’t careful.

He touched his earpiece. “I’m gonna need backup down here.”

“Where are you?” Sam replied.

“You’ll hear.”

“Goddammit, Steve.”

He ignored Sam’s complaint and popped up from his cover as the weapons had stopped firing for a moment. He got a few more shots in before the Chitauri weapons were fired, hitting violent against the table, sending it flying upwards.

Without his cover to protect him, Steve aimlessly kept shooting, rolling to the next table. Luckily, he made it unscathed, and gave himself enough time to reload. His random bout of firing took one guy down, and as his weapon slipped from his hands, it fired, resulting in another guy being shot in the chest, leaving a burning hole.

Steve now had a much better view of how many people there were. Four were left and were quickly approaching.

He was outmatched in numbers and weaponry.

Fortunately, Sam came swopping in, instantly taking out two of the guys. When he landed he acted as a shield as both he and Steve got some shots in. The other two guys kept shooting at them, but since their weapons took some time to charge, the shots were easily dodged.

A bit of luck with timing meant the other two went down, and their weapons thudded off the ground. For a moment, the two paused, unsure on whether the weapons were safe to approach (they had dealt with some exploding previously) but when nothing happened. They gladly let their guard down.

Nat came strolling in with a metal trolley and a USB stick in hand. She tucked it into her pocket and smirked, pulling the trolley up to the weapons.

“You boys having fun?”

Sam scowled and picked up a couple of the guns, powering them down. “Oh yeah, especially with Mr Reckless over here.” He shot a look at Steve.

“We took them down, didn’t we?”

Nat rolled her eyes. “We can talk about this later.”

Once the weapons were collected up and safely secured in their car, the three drove down long roads, which eventually led to dusty roads, which led to two black armoured cars with tinted windows.

As they rolled to a stop, agents popped out of the cars, along with one man that seemed to be in charge. Sunglasses covered his eyes, but the group knew exactly who it was just from the way he walked.

Nat jumped out the car, approaching the man quickly. “Coulson! We weren’t expecting you,” she said, narrowing her eyes. It was quite obvious that Coulson was trying to keep his identity hidden, still.

“I was near the area and wanted to oversee this one.” He smiled. “It’s not often we’re all in one place.”

As Sam opened the trunk of the car, allowing the agents to collect up the weapons, Steve stepped towards Coulson, folding his arms.

“How is your underground network?” he asked.

Coulson looked to Steve “We’re working on SHIELD becoming legitimised again.”

“Don’t screw it up this time.”

“We won’t.” Coulson looked over his shoulder, seeing the agents finishing packing up. “I’ll make sure these are destroyed.”

“Good. ‘Cause the last thing we need is those getting back on the market,” Sam said. He certainly wasn’t up for SHIELD’s bullshit.

Coulson smiled. “We appreciate the work you’re doing.” He turned and began walking away. “I like the lack of star, Rogers, it _really_ highlights that you’re you.”

As the cars drove off, Sam turned to Steve. “Wow. He really is your number one fan, isn’t he?”

“I think he’s displeased that you changed your suit from his design,” Nat said, moving back towards their car.

“That suit was the worst thing I’ve ever worn.” Steve chuckled. “And that includes the USO outfit.”

When they made it back to their terrible motel, the lot of them got changed into softer clothes, glad to be free of their armoured suits. Nat grabbed some menus from the corner and began looking at the choice of takeaways, while Sam recalled the day’s events.

As he remembered, leaning on a wall, Steve passed him. He scowled and grabbed Steve’s arm, pulling him to a sudden stop.

“What you did was reckless,” Sam said, still scowling.

“It was fine, in the end.”

“You’re not indestructible.”

Nat raised her eyebrows, sensing what was coming next. She grabbed a wallet and moved around the two. “I’ll go get food.”

As Nat left, Sam practically forced Steve to sit on a chair. When he did, with little protest, Sam sat on his bed. It wasn’t the most ideal space for Sam to use, but it would do.

“Steve… you need therapy.”

“I’m fine.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We’re not in the 1930s or ’40s, you don’t ‘put yourself together and walk it off’. You clearly have issues, especially with PTSD.” Steve opened his mouth to deny it, but Sam shook his head. “You have nightmares more often than we get meals.” He lay back on his hands. “Tell me about them.”

Steve was well aware he wasn’t getting out of this, so with a sigh, he delved into his worst dreams. “The nightmares are almost always about Bucky falling… I’m in 1945, and I’m reaching out for him. He falls and all I can hear is his screaming. It repeats over and over. Sometimes I fall with him. Sometimes our places are swapped and _I_ fall.” He shivered, curling into himself. “It’s cold in the dreams, it feels so real. But all I can ever hear is the screaming. And I can never reach for him, I can never grab him. I couldn’t save him when I should have been able to.” His eyes dipped to the ground. “It shouldn’t have been any different. It was the same as any mission. And it haunts me.”

Sam nodded slowly, glad for all the information. It told him everything he needed to know. “The trauma of that incident hasn’t been stored correctly.”

“Which means?”

“Which means we’re gonna have to work on that.”

“How?”

“You have to relive it.”

Steve felt a shiver flow throughout him, resulting in goosebumps all over. “Relive it?”

“It’s not as scary as it sounds.” Sam reassuringly smiled. “You’ll have to talk through the event, in detail. Preferably in the present tense, while describing the senses you experienced.” He looked to the door. “Nat has given us plenty of time, we can make a start now.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Will it work?”

“Therapy takes time, but it’ll work.”

Sam grabbed a notebook and pen from his bag. He flipped it open, ready to get into his therapist mode. Steve’s eyes were set on the notepad and all he could think about was being judged. Though, he had to remind himself this was for his benefit. And perhaps he made a note that his way of thinking had to change on everything.

“Tell me about what happened on the train.”

Steve rubbed his palms together. They were clammy. “I have to describe senses?”

Sam nodded.

“We defeated the last HYDRA soldier…” He closed his eyes. “The train smells of… nothing really. Metal. It smells of metal. It’s cold, but the fight is enough to keep me warm. We’re fine, until a soldier fires at us. I’m knocked down and Bucky picks up the shield. There’s a hole in the side of the train. Bucky’s shot. He’s gone. But he’s hanging off the side, on a loose rail. I defeat the soldier and I’m at the side of the train, using a rail to get to Bucky. I’m begging for him to hold on. I’m reaching out, he’s reaching out. We’re too far away. The rail snaps. He’s falling. Screaming. I’m crying. It’s my fault. I should have reached him. And it’s cold. It’s so cold.”

Suddenly Steve could hear Sam saying, “Steve. Steve. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not there.”

Steve opens his eyes, only to see Sam crouching by him. He was hyperventilating but hadn’t realised. Sam helped him calm his breathing and handed him a cloth, as tears were rolling down Steve’s cheeks, only to be stopped by his ever-growing beard. He dabbed them away and Sam resumed his position on the bed. As Steve came back to himself, after a good few moments, Sam scribbled something down.

“So, it’s all your fault, huh?” Sam glanced to Steve, taking in his expression. “But Bucky lived and he’s in Wakanda, getting treatment. He wouldn’t be here today if he didn’t fall.”

“Problem is, Sam, neither me or Bucky should be here. We should have lived in our time.”

“But you didn’t.” Sam made another note. “You’re in a changed world. As I’ve told you before, you can be anything you want.”

Steve scoffed. “Not now that I’m a criminal.”

Sam shrugged. Steve had a good point, but this was therapy time, not the time to go into detail on how they were all traitors. “Get a face lift. No one will recognise you then.” Steve shot him a look and Sam lightly chuckled before his face slipped back into therapist mode. “Point is, you’re not in the '40s, Bucky is alive and you’re learning to be yourself again.” He rested his pen down, looking to Steve. “You have information now that you didn’t have at the original event.”

Steve gritted his teeth. “Bucky was tortured, brainwashed, because I didn’t look for him.”

“Not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Believing it’s your fault, when it wasn’t, is only gonna make it harder on yourself. You said Zola experimented on Bucky before the fall.”

“Yeah.”

“Then HYDRA wouldn’t have stopped until they captured Bucky. You did all you could for him at the time. You tried to save him.”

Steve shook his head. It wasn’t enough. He could have done more. Right? “Didn’t try hard enough.”

“You did. All that guilt you’re holding, it ain’t doing you any good.” Sam pinched his nose, picking up his pen after. “Don’t think of the fall as a negative. Think of it this way, you later went on to crash the Valkyrie which froze you. You and Bucky are both out of your time, but you’re together again. Once Bucky has recovered, and you let go of all your shit, you’ll have each other back in a world that’s far more progressive. That’s a good thing.”

“Is it?”

“You mourn a time which would have abused your abilities if you had stayed. A time which was far less accepting of everyone. You and Bucky can have much better lives after therapy. It _is_ a good thing.”

Steve rubbed his palms together again. They were still sweaty, and his eyes may have stung as if tears were collecting, but Steve gave a small smile. “You’re right. It is a better time.”

“Finally listening?”

Steve nodded. “This is… good.”

The door burst open as Nat entered, plastic bags in hand. “I thought you were never going to make a breakthrough.”

Sam turned to her, placing the notepad down, flicking it shut. “How long have you been outside?”

“A few minutes.” She shrugged nonchalantly as she sat the bags on a table. “Thought I’d make an entrance.”

Steve let out a hopeless laugh. “What did you get?”

She flicked a smile to the two. “Pizza.”

After a couple days of rest, the three of them packed up, ready to go to their respective stolen quinjets. Nat zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, sighing as she watched Sam guide Steve to one corner of the room.

“If you’re going to do therapy _now_ , I’m leaving immediately,” she said.

Sam shot her a look. “You could do with some therapy too.”

Nat twisted her mouth. “It isn’t for me.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s for everybody. At least learn some _healthy_ coping mechanisms.”

“Maybe one day.” She walked over to the two. “I’ll allow hugs for my departure.”

Sam gave her a quick, brief hug, saying, “Wear that dress you have and send us the pics.”

“That dress is for disguises only,” she replied, smirking. She was definitely going to wear a dress, only without anyone knowing.

She turned to Steve and gave him a warm hug. “Find time to enjoy yourself in Wakanda.”

Steve let out a small laugh. It sounded broken yet had a hint of joy mixed in. “I’m sure T’Challa will force me too.”

Nat backed out of the hug and stepped away. “I’ll see you both in Syria.”

“See ya,” Sam said as Steve nodded to her.

Nat smiled at them both before ducking out the door, leaving the two standing there.

Sam looked to Steve, his lips thinned. “Is the therapy I suggested the best for you?”

“I think so.” Steve glanced to the ceiling. “I think it’s already helped.”

“Do you want to do another session now? Or when we regroup?”

Steve glanced to the door. Beyond it was the quinjet, Wakanda, a frozen Bucky. Aka, a mess of unhealthy situations for Steve. “If it doesn’t bother you...”

Sam took his seat on the bed. “I’ve got time.”

As Steve got comfortable, he began wringing his hands, already feeling their clamminess. “I had a dream last night...”

“What happened?”

Steve closed his eyes, remembering the dream in great detail.

_The cold was so vivid, blowing into the train with a great force. Bucky was hanging from a rail. And Steve, well, he was certainly losing all frame of mind. He couldn’t believe what was happening, how close his friend was to death. He’d be fine though, because Steve was strong, he was Captain America, he could save Bucky. He could._

_“Hang on!” he shouted as he shuffled along a rail, just above Bucky. He reached out. “Grab my hand!”_

_Steve watched as Bucky struggled. All he could do was watch. His friend was seconds away from death. If he fell, it would only be Steve’s fault for not trying hard enough. For not saving him. For not being a hero, like the propaganda set him up to be._

_And then, Bucky’s hand was in his and Steve was straining with the pressure, pulling him up, letting him grab the much more secure rail. Steve moved back along, finding the solid ground of the train. He helped Bucky get across. They were safe. They were alive._

_They sat at the edge, watching the snowy landscape roll on by. Silence consumed them as the cold blew in. As the ravine disappeared and the side of the train rattled with the wind. Steve glanced to Bucky, who smiled in this pained way. It was broken because they knew the truth of the matter._

_“You couldn’t have saved me,” Bucky said. Steve closed his eyes, not wanting to hear this. “The rail was loose, I couldn’t move to reach you. If you had reached me…” He shook his head. “We both might’ve fell. It doesn’t matter what you think, Steve. I fell and it’s not your fault.”_

_Steve turned to him, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s. “I miss you.”_

“It ended differently…” Steve said, after a few minutes of remembering the dream in detail. Sam had sat there, allowing him time to find the words. “I saved Bucky and we sat on the edge of the train, watching the snowy mountains. Bucky said– He said that the rail was loose and that if I _had_ reached him, we both might have fell. I– I woke up after that.”

“Sounds like you’re thinking rationally.”

Steve shrugged.

“I thought we could focus on the Valkyrie, you being unfrozen and the Retreat.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “The Retreat? Did you read my file?”

“No. Nat told me.” Sam paused for a second, allowing him time to find words. “What happened when you woke up?”

“They had me in a fake room. And the game they had on the radio was one I went to. It was all wrong.” Steve smiled lightly. “I escaped too easily, and Fury told me how long it had been… After they explained it fully, I was sent to the Retreat. It didn’t help. I was isolated in a world I no longer knew. When I returned to New York I boxed nearly every day. But I couldn’t help but recall memories of WWII.” He shrugged. “I used to line up punching bags because I kept breaking them.”

Sam smiled as he scribbled notes down. “You’re too powerful for your own good.” He shook his head slowly. “But it sounds like you had intrusive thoughts? Did you willingly recall the memories?”

“Not always.”

“Do you still get that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you ignore it? Repress it?”

Steve looked anywhere but at Sam. He knew Sam was looking at him, but he couldn’t look back. “I don’t know… I try not to think about it.”

Sam nodded. “When you do think about it, don’t repress it. When you do that, you’re only allowing the thought to come back later. Instead, confront your thinking. For example, if you recall Bucky’s fall and your guilt, remind yourself that it wasn’t your fault. When a negative intrusive thought comes, use rational thinking to tell it why it’s wrong.”

“Okay…”

“Do you have the same experience with the recent battles?”

“Yes.”

Sam looked over his notes, recalling something Steve had said. “Do they give you nightmares too?”

Steve nodded, fear in his expression.

“We’ll work on those as well.”

Steve rubbed his palms together. He was quickly realising it was becoming a habit. “Will I have to relive it? Like I did before?”

“Yeah. Is that alright?”

He nodded. “I want to be able to control how I feel about the war, the battles… everything.”

“That’ll be one of your goals then.” Sam sighed. “Why did you crash the Valkyrie?”

Steve let out a shaky breath and stared at the floor. “It was going too fast. I couldn’t operate it. All I could do was crash it. There was no other option.”

“How did you feel?”

“Scared? I was terrified. But I… I had to. I wanted to.” His mouth twisted as he recalled the bitter memory. “Then I woke up and none of it mattered.” Unshed tears shone brightly at his eyes.

“Okay, here’s your homework for the next few days. Reflect on why crashing the Valkyrie was borderline suicidal and concentrate on breathing techniques.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “Crashing the Valkyrie wasn’t suicidal.” Sam just stared at him blankly. “Okay… maybe it was.”

Sam picked up his bag, shoving the notebook in. “You good?”

Steve stood and picked up his own bag, glancing over the room. “Yeah… That helped. Thanks Sam.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a long road ahead.”

“I know.”

\--

Wakanda. A place so amazing and advanced, Steve had no idea what anything really was or how it worked. Nor would he want to know, as he knew he’d be too easily overwhelmed.

When the quinjet landed, T’Challa could barely get a greeting in before Shuri ran up to Steve, eyes bright. T’Challa let out a breath and smiled at his sister’s excitement.

“I’ve found a way,” Shuri said, grinning widely.

Steve could barely breathe for a second, it knocked the wind right out of him. “Really?”

Shuri glared at Steve. “You shouldn’t doubt my abilities.” She gestured for them to walk. “If I reboot Barnes’s brain, it will erase the programming.”

“How?”

“It’s a little complicated but it involves some intricate work on healing the damaged parts of Barnes’s brain. Especially the prefrontal cortex.”

“Okay…”

Shuri smirked and glanced to T’Challa. “I feel Rogers did not understand a word I just said.”

T’Challa lightly chuckled. “Shuri… leave him be.” He looked to Steve as they walked. “It’s good to see you again, Captain.”

“As it is good to see you, Your Majesty.”

In the lab, Steve was allowed to sit and stare at Bucky, like he usually did, while Shuri was busy working. She was running an algorithm to see how she could reset Bucky’s brain without wiping out his memories with it. There was also the factor of assessing the damage from all the years of his brain being zapped by electricity, but Shuri was sure the right surgery and medication would heal the damage well enough.

“What’s the chance he’ll lose his memories?” Steve asked as he stared. He often got lost in his own head when he sat, watching.

“None, if I get this right.” She smiled as she concentrated. “Which it will be.”

Steve nodded and kept gazing. Shuri glanced at him and sighed. She let her algorithm run on its own while she moved closer to Steve, frowning at him.

“You know, if anymore broken white men come here, I’m going to set up a new lab to facilitate you all.”

Steve let out a grim laugh. “I guess broken is what you get when your world is… not what you thought it was.”

Shuri pulled up a chair and sat by Steve. “Are you getting therapy? You look better.”

“Sam is giving me some.” Steve breathed in and out slowly. “I’m practising my breathing.”

“That’s good.” Shuri glanced to Bucky. “Are you afraid Barnes will forget you?”

“Yeah…” He looked to Shuri, actually acknowledging how she had moved across the lab. “I can’t lose him. Not again.”

“You won’t.” Shuri nodded to her work station, where the algorithm was being processed. “With the technology at my disposal, very little can go wrong.”

“I would ask you how it works,” Steve began with a smile, “but it would go over my head.” He looked back to Bucky. “Science was always Bucky’s interest.”

Shuri tilted her head. “You must like science though.”

“I like the technology it creates. I’m not interested in how it works.”

“You would be, if you understood it.” She laughed lightly which caused Steve to smile, from the sheer joy of it.

“I’m sure when Bucky wakes, he’ll never get you to stop explaining things.”

Shuri smiled. “Now that sounds like a white boy I’d trust.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that. His laugh still sounded sad, from all his years battering his mind, but it had more joy than it used to.

“Who is he to you, really?” Shuri said. A tiny part of her told her she shouldn’t have asked, but she was a scientist at the end of the day. Her curiosity was bound to be wild.

Steve recalled what he had said in the past and stated, “even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” He stared at the cryo chamber once again. “He’s my best friend. He’s worth everything to me.”

“Like a brother?”

Steve shook his head. Smiled slightly. Kept staring. “Brother doesn’t cover it. Never has.”

Shuri could only deduce one singular thing from that, and she kept it to herself. She could see in Steve’s posture that he wasn’t comfortable talking about this, but she also noticed how tense he was, like he was ready for Shuri to call him out on it. She wasn’t going to. That would be unfair. But it was the first time she’d seen Steve looking so scared. Truly fearful.

“I’m going to check on the algorithm.” She smiled. “You should talk with T’Challa, he mentioned wanting to show you the various shields we have here.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “What kinds of shields?”

“Go and find out.”

It was like Shuri and T’Challa had planned everything to the minute because Steve hadn’t walked two seconds down the hallway before T’Challa appeared beside him. He explained his interest in wanting to show Steve the many wonders of Wakandan technology paired up with the humble shield.

As they entered the armoury, T’Challa guided Steve to one corner, where shields littered the wall. “Here our shields are weapons too. Like yours.”

Steve stepped towards the shields that looked as if they were on display, instead of waiting to be used. “It isn’t mine anymore.”

“Shuri says it reminds her of a frisbee.” T’Challa smiled. “It’s probably for the best. We have far better shields.”

Steve let out a small laugh. “It’s a shame I don’t still have it.” He glanced to T’Challa. “We could have had a game.”

“I was never too good at frisbee,” he said, staring into the middle distance. As if some horrifying childhood memory crawled up to the top. He looked to the shields, pointing to a set that worked as gauntlets and had incredibly sharp points. “These have never been favoured by anyone, as not many like the angle of the edges.”

Steve reached out to them, gently moving his finger over the edges. “Seems good enough to me.”

“Would you ever favour gauntlets over a projectile?”

As he kept inspecting the shield, the weapon, Steve knitted his brow. “Can’t say I have a preference.”

“You’ve really left ‘Captain America’ behind you?”

“I don’t believe in the America government anymore, in what America stands for. My persona became a symbol of fascism in people’s minds.” Steve shook his head, retracting his hand from the shield. “That’s not why I became Captain America.”

T’Challa nodded. “You stand for yourself?”

“Yes.” Steve turned to him. “And I would appreciate you using Steve instead of Captain.”

“Of course.” He gestured back to the shields. “Which is your favourite?”

Steve went on to give a rating of each shield, judging it by its effectiveness as a shield and also as a weapon if it functioned as one. His favourites were the gauntlet like shields, as they were certainly more practical than some of the others. T’Challa wondered if Steve would ever use them in a fight, to which Steve confirmed that they would be his weapon of choice.

He returned to the lab after T’Challa offered a sparring match with the Dora Milaje. Steve declined, saying that he was far too tired for such activities. While he ached to go back to the lab, he wasn’t lying per se. He was tired. Tired of fighting and everything to do with the word. But he’d keep on going, because what else could he do? His only other option would be to stay in Wakanda, which T’Challa kindly reminded him that it was an option. But it wasn’t one yet, not while Bucky was still frozen.

As he approached the cryo chamber, Steve pressed his forehead against it. “One day, Buck, we’ll both get to retire.”

Shuri spotted Steve from the other side of the lab and frowned. He was never gone from the lab for too long, and she empathised with him greatly. His loved one was so close yet still out of reach. As far as she could tell, Bucky being frozen put a pause on Steve’s life.

She picked up some blankets – which she kept in the lab when working overtime – and approached Steve, handing them to him.

“Go on, I know you secretly love these.” She offered a smile, which Steve returned, gratefully taking the blankets from her.

He drabbed them over his shoulders, like he always did. “Thank you.”

“I hope you get the help you need, Steve.”

He took his usual seat. “Yeah… me too.”

\--

They met in a bunker. A new place to call home. There wasn’t much room and it wasn’t glamourous. No, this place had rickety beds with hard mattresses and worn sheets with covers that were merely a tattered mess. And the glaringly big SHIELD logo plastered on the wall was certainly not going to help any of the three sleep.

Nat was there first, while Sam and Steve arrived at the same time. They both came to a sudden stop when they noticed Nat, with blonde hair instead of her red. Sam cracked a smiled while Steve furrowed his brows.

“You know the government will still know it’s you, even with the dyed hair,” Steve said, now smirking.

Nat touched her hair and shrugged. “I like it.”

“Looks good on you,” Sam said before moving towards one of the beds, taking the one with the less chewed up sheets.

“I see your beard has finally grown in,” Nat pointed out while Steve touched his beard.

“I could never grow one before the serum and Captain America had to be clean shaven…” He half-heatedly shrugged. “I thought I’d give it a go.”

“The government will still recognise you though.”

Steve chuckled, he should have guessed Nat would have used his words against him. Even so, the two looked rather different from their previous looks, while Sam was exactly the same.

As the three wordlessly sorted themselves out, mainly by getting comfortable with their bunk, Sam approached Steve. He was holding a sketchbook and coloured pencils, which didn’t look too bad in quality and were certainly better than anything Steve had ever owned before. He hadn’t drawn in quite some time.

“Here, I got you this,” Sam said.

Steve looked to the items in Sam’s hands. Slowly, his expression melded into one of surprise as Sam handed them to him. “I…”

“I thought maybe if you got back into art, it might help with the healing process.”

“Thank you…” Steve set them on his bed and smiled at Sam.

“When are you going to have your next therapy session?” Nat asked, lying on her bed, easily getting comfortable.

Sam shrugged. “Whenever’s good with you.”

“Tomorrow?” Steve was quick to say. Sam nodded.

Nat guided a smile towards Steve. “I’m glad you’re taking this seriously.”

“I have to. For my own sake.” Steve sat on his bed, taking the sketchbook into his hands. “Really, thanks for this, Sam.”

“No problem. I’m just here to help at this point.”

As the three of them settled down, to sleep off their varying jet lag, Steve stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t get to sleep, and not because of the time zone, but because of his thoughts. He focused on his breathing as he let the memories come. Some he easily retorted, keeping a rational head to fight them off, but when it came to other things, like Bucky, that became a harder task. Though, as he kept his breathing steady, the memories pattered off until Steve shook his head swiftly and found himself drifting into sleep.

When morning came, Nat got to sorting out plans while Sam and Steve sat in two, fairly unstable, wooden chairs. Sam had noticed the opened pack of pencils, taking into account that Steve was either up late or early and decided to draw to calm himself. Of course, that’s what it was there for. And if he noticed the immensely detailed drawing of, what he guessed, was a WWII Bucky, then he’d mention it during the session.

“How did you sleep?”

Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t get to sleep, at first. And I woke up early because of a nightmare.”

“What was the nightmare about?”

“Bucky woke up from cryo but wanted nothing to do with me because I made his recovery worse.”

Sam straightened up in his chair. “Is that a fear of yours? That your problems will make Bucky’s worse?”

“Yeah…”

“Then, let’s get your mind sorted.”

Sam went on to just let Steve talk at him. At times, he would interject, breaking down Steve’s thinking so that negative thoughts could be countered with more positive ones. Whenever Steve had guilt or doubt, Sam would prove him wrong, both as a friend and a therapist. Sam repeated phrases he had often said down at the VA, hoping that those old speeches would help.

“Is it comforting to have a list?” Sam asked after a while. They had been edging into how Steve was still adjusting to the modern world, and Steve’s list had been somewhat abandoned after the recent months.

Steve stared at the ground. “I can never catch up. Recommendations tell me what’s important to people.” He shrugged. “It’s easier that way.”

“Since you’ve had time to think, do you prefer this time or your time?”

“You were right, now is better. I’ll always miss my time…” His eyes flicked up. “The music was better. But I can do things now I couldn’t before.”

“Like what?”

Steve looked to the ceiling. Still avoiding Sam’s eyesight whenever he could. “Laws have changed.”

Sam didn’t say anything, instead, he waited for Steve to continue. All the while, Steve took a breath, kept staring at the ceiling, at the ground. Anywhere but at Sam. He soon settled on the wall.

“I’m bisexual.” Steve rubbed his palms together, which was definitely a habit at this point. “It was hard to truly express myself back then… since it was illegal. But now I’m fully learning that part of myself.”

Before Sam could say anything, never mind react, Nat shouted, “Finally!”

Steve’s head snapped to Nat, furrowing his brow. He was already emotional from the rest of the therapy session, coming out only added to that. And Nat certainly didn’t help.

“You knew…?” he asked, his voice wavering.

She perked up from her corner, realising with raised eyebrows that her comment wasn’t the best reaction. “I had an idea.” She smiled with plenty of reassurance. “I thought you’d tell us all if or when you felt ready.”

Steve looked back to Sam, who shrugged. “I had no idea, but this is the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“That’s a relief.” He let out a small chuckle.

Nat appeared by them and stretched out her arms. “Come on, you need a hug.”

Steve stood and Nat wrapped her arms around him. Sam sat, watching, smiling at the fact that Steve was making progress in so many different ways. Being himself was still quite new to Steve, since he’d been Captain America for so long, but Sam knew Steve was getting there.

“I’m glad you’re learning what you need,” Nat said, patting his back before backing out of the hug.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“Now this is what I call healthy,” Sam said, gaining a chuckle from Steve.

The following day meant getting back into the fight, as the USB stick Nat had acquired from the other base told the three of various bases that housed the terrorists. Not only that but it was where some of the Chitauri weapons were being shipped out, while other bases were simply stocking them.

They arrived at a desolate building, one that barely looked like it should have had anyone inside, never mind extremely powerful weapons.

“Don’t do anything reckless and/or suicidal,” Sam told Steve.

“I got it.”

It was precisely ten minutes before Steve did something slightly reckless because he was a violent force of nature that didn’t know what giving up meant and honestly, he could do it all damn day, as long as it didn’t kill him in the end. And why reckless? Well, he had something to prove, didn’t he? He was also still fucked up and at the beginning of his therapy, but I digress.

He was being reckless the moment he picked up a Chitauri powered weapon and randomly shot into a room full of terrorists. An explosion engulfed the area, causing Steve to fall to the ground with great force. Maybe some were taken out in the explosion, but Steve was lying in a puddle of blood, which was precisely not a good thing.

“What did I **_say_**?!” Sam boomed down the comms.

Steve stared at the blood, then at himself. There were no obvious wounds, but he was covered in stuff. It was so red, so fresh. He glanced to the fiery remains of the room, only to see nothing but fire. He tried to focus, but his eyes were covered in dirt and god knows what. Then and only then did his vision snap back, and he noticed the discarded limbs, the corpses, the severe lack of people even though the room had been full. He looked back down at the blood and realised it was from the men in the room. Everyone he had been remotely close to lay thickly against his uniform.

“Sam…” his voice shuddered. “I’m gonna need another therapy session.”

Sam landed by him, his face instantly falling at the sight. All blood, fire, limbs and bones that had flicked out of flesh. It was something perfect for your worst nightmares. Quickly, Sam dove down and slung Steve’s arm over his shoulder, dragging him away from the destruction. There were no weapons from that room to power down and collect up, they had all exploded, leaving a distinct colour of red in their wake.

Sam swiftly got Steve to sit in the first chair out of sight of the room. This base was certainly never going to be used again. Nat, eventually, made it to their location, a few weapons lying in a wheelbarrow she had somehow acquired. Steve was sure anyone else in the base was dead because of Nat’s skill, but all that popped into Steve’s mind was the limbs, the explosion.

“I… I did that. I–” Steve began hyperventilating. His skin heated up as it fought the reaction, the anxiety. His ancient instincts were kicking in but hindered him instead of helping.

“Steve, Steve. I need you to breathe with me, okay?” Sam said, gaining Steve’s vague attention. Sam breathed slowly, in and out, and Steve tried to follow, finding it hard.

Nat shook her head and took up the wheelbarrow. “We _have_ to go.”

“In a minute,” Sam said. He gritted his teeth as he spoke, stressing the importance of calming Steve first, who was completely out of it with shock. “Steve… It ain’t your fault. We know these weapons are highly explosive if they’re not installed correctly. You did nothing we wouldn’t have done.”

Steve nodded as if he still wasn’t with it, but that was good enough for Sam, as his breathing had become more controlled. He pulled him up, helping him to the car. He may have had no wounds, but the explosion had caused some injury. A sprain maybe. Really, it was nothing the serum couldn’t fix up in a few hours or within a day.

With the weapons powered down and destroyed in an explosion of Nat’s own making, they drove back to the bunker in a fresh silence. Steve shook with what had happened, he may have done plenty of harsh things in his time, but it was the unexpected that had caught him out. Had he prepared for an explosion of that kind, he wouldn’t have been so shaken. Sam watched him with a careful eye, knowing he was fragile in his current state. And Nat? She drove them back, waiting for the moment Steve would come back to himself.

He did. Eventually. After he had healed and after Nat and Sam had cleaned up his uniform. He took to drawing. He drew explosions. Exploding tanks, bases, helicarriers. Pretty much anything he had seen explode, he drew. And when he was done with that, he took to drawing jungles. Vast jungles, with mist hanging over them.

“What are you drawing now?” Sam asked, sitting next to Steve on his bed.

“Wakanda.”

“Do you wish you were there?”

Steve closed his eyes and set down his pencil. He’d been shading in a panther statue. “T’Challa keeps reminding me I can stay there. But I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t run away from a fight. It isn’t me.”

Sam gave a nod and stood. “Then don’t do anything that seems reckless and/or suicidal.”

Steve scratched his beard and glanced to the ground. Somehow, the cold concrete had become a comfort. The way it had survived after so many years, with few cracks, told Steve that anything old could hold itself together. “I can do that… I can.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot, but you’ve gotta think like a Captain.”

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” He looked down at his drawing. “I’ll be better next time. I’m trying.”

Sam let out a sigh. “Yeah? Try better.”

Steve shook his head, his lips slightly upturning as he went back to drawing and Sam walked back to his bed. They all deserved a long night’s sleep after the day they had. Especially Steve. He needed all the sleep in the world.

With each day or so came a new therapy session. Steve was slowly learning to let his guilt dissipate. He understood why some of his actions seemed suicidal, especially when it came to the Valkyrie. He was getting used to breathing techniques and counteracting negative thoughts with positive ones. Sam told him from time to time that it seemed like Steve was making his way through his depression.

His drawings melded into happier ones. He began drawing himself smiling, with Shuri at his side. Or he drew himself with the gauntlet shields, talking to T’Challa, like he was marvelling over how amazing they were. He did draw things from the ’30s and ’40s, but it had a happier shade to it. Like he wasn’t longing after something he couldn’t have, rather he was remembering his good days. Honouring them with a drawing.

Steve even had fewer nightmares as the days went on. He was less likely to flinch at every single sound. He worried less. His memories stopped haunting him. He wasn’t completely healed, but he was getting there, he was managing. And with more therapy, maybe he could leave all his mental illnesses behind.

As long as he remembered the techniques, as long as he kept drawing, he would get better.

And with a month and a half passing by, the three of them were readying to pack up and move on from Syria. They got their stuff together, changed into civilian clothes, took a look around the bunker to ensure nothing was left and hopped into their car, leaving the place behind.

This time Sam drove, allowing Nat a break as she had done most of the driving. She fiddled on a device while Steve took to drawing. He was merely doodling small drawings on one page, trying to conserve the space left in the sketchbook.

“Oh…” Nat sounded, gaining attention from the other two. “SHIELD has been officially legitimised again.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “That happened quickly.”

“The rumours were right… Jeffrey Mace is the director, an inhuman.”

“Damn. Isn’t SHIELD risking it? With the Accords including inhumans and all?” Sam wondered, glancing at his mirror to see Nat.

“Maybe its to protect the inhuman agents they have.”

Steve finished off shading a small SSR logo. “Let’s hope they do it right.”

Nat pocketed the device. “I think SHIELD has learnt from its mistakes.”

Sam and Steve merely nodded. They all hoped that SHIELD wouldn’t mess up again, but given their track record, that was highly unlikely.

Eventually, they made it to their quinjets and individually headed to Lebanon. It was a bit of a nuisance, having to transport all three quinjets. But it was easier when it came to breaks, since they could all cart off at any time.

Besides, they could hardly think of their situation while they had bases and weapons to take out.


	2. Science Of Healing

“Barnes!”

No. He already hated this. Someone shouting his name before he got a chance to open his eyes? That’s definitely not how he wanted to wake from cryo. Right. Yes. Cryo. Why did he willingly go under again? Oh yeah, the triggers. Were they still there? Why had they woken him up? And who had just yelled out his name?

His eyes flung open. He felt a need to bolt up, to establish what was going on, but before he could, a young woman entered his line of sight. Perhaps woman was the wrong word. It was hard to determine how old she actually was. But from what he could tell, she was gently pressing on his shoulder, ensuring he stayed down.

“I’m sorry. The anaesthetic wore off.” She turned in a different angle. “Administer another dose. I didn’t realise how quickly he would burn it off.”

The world went dark.

And another reality poked on through.

_“Bucky…?” a familiar voice echoed through a warmly lit room._

_It was a bar. The bar. The one where everything formed. The beginning of the end. Before everything was about to fall to pieces, without remorse. Even the bar would succumb to the cruel fate of the war, it too would die. But it was there, full of people, its heart beating._

_Music played in the background, though, it was faded, because he focused in on the voice. The thing that had followed him everywhere for such a long time. The person._

_Steve._

_“What is this?” Bucky asked Steve, who was in his army uniform, looking unforgivingly good._

_“The only place where we’re safe, Buck.”_

_Bucky walked up to Steve and wrapped his arms around him, burying his head on Steve’s shoulder. “I want to stay here. I don’t wanna go back.”_

_Steve brushed a hand through Bucky’s hair. “We’re not these people anymore.”_

_Bucky backed out of the hug, instead, he cupped Steve’s jaw. “I need you.”_

As with most dreams, it was ripped away before it could end, and Bucky was staring up in a white and grey room that buzzed with sounds and bustled with a few people. He lifted his head, before having the strength to sit up, but that’s all he could do. Because his strength was little, and he felt much too woozy.

Again, the young woman came into his line of sight. “Barnes…” she whispered.

He stared at her. “What happened?” Was all he could rasp out.

“The process went well… You should be–” She took a breath. “You should be free of the triggers. All damage to your brain has been healed as well.”

“Damage?”

“Scar tissue. The extent of the scarring was so severe, we worried it was irreversible.” She sighed. “Do you remember me?”

Bucky stared for a few more moments before his mind snapped back into gear, like an old computer booting up after decades of gaining dust. “Shuri! You’re Shuri, T’Challa’s sister.”

Shuri smiled brightly. Never before had she felt so much joy over someone remembering her. “Seems like your brain is already fixing itself.”

Bucky brushed a hand through his hair, slowly, like he was trying to feel his brain. “Are they really gone?”

“Yes. We’ll need to check at one point but I’d rather you recover from this surgery first.” Shuri handed Bucky blankets, the same ones she had given Steve. “These might be more comfortable than the sheets.” She smiled as he took them. “I would like to observe you for a few hours, but after that we’ll be taking you to an outlying village. We find it’s the best way for people to heal after traumatic events.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. He would be trusted enough in a village? “Thank you…” And oh boy, was he grateful. He didn’t know quite what to say really, but a village sounded peaceful.

“They farm goats out there, and there’s a lake! I think you’d quite like it.”

“It would be different to what I’m used to.”

“I think difference is exactly what you need.”

Bucky wrapped the blankets around him. Something knocked him off, however. He looked down at it with a furrowed brow. “Why do these smell like Steve?”

Shuri smiled and pointed to a stool. “Whenever Steve would visit, he would sit on that stool. I often gave the blankets to him, as a way of comfort.”

“He was watching me?” Shuri hadn’t said so but she didn’t need to. Bucky knew straight away that Steve had been a right sap and watched Bucky sleep in the ice.

“Yeah. He really missed you.”

Bucky nodded and wrapped the blankets closer to himself.

\--

It was easy to get used to the goats. The small hut with a few bits of technology that had been made to blend in. The culmination of blankets that lay on the floor. It was the simple life through and through.

But the children? Well, they were a different story. Their parents would try their best, though it was futile as the children would always find ways to tease and play with Bucky. They quickly came to call him ‘White Wolf’. He wasn’t sure why it had come about, however, one of the older kids had mentioned that the way he slept had reminded them of a wolf. And, if he was perfectly honest, he had no idea what they meant. Perhaps it was his nightmares, perhaps the line between sleep and being awake blurred, maybe he talked in his sleep or screamed. Whatever it was, nobody would tell him.

Shuri came by after the first few days, checking up on how he was doing, only to find the kids pestering him as he tried to work with only one arm. Getting used to not having metal holding him down wasn’t an easy task. Often, he found himself off balance. But he was getting there. Somehow, he was getting there.

Shuri gently laughed as the kids rushed away. Bucky looked to her, noticing the equipment she had brought with her. It was so she could take Bucky’s obs, assessing how he was after surgery. And to ask him how he was settling in.

The next time she came along, two weeks later, was different. Again, the kids had been messing with him, this time while he slept no less. And when he emerged from the hut, the children ran off, laughing joyfully. It took a second for him to adjust, still finding it weird that he was in this vastly different environment, in vastly different clothes.

He approached Shuri, preparing himself mentally for what the day might entail. He had a vague idea.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes.”

Nope. He was having none of that. It was too much. That wasn’t him, not anymore. “Bucky.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.” Good didn’t cover it really. He felt more alive than ever. And all that was down to Shuri. “Thank you.”

“Come.” She lightly tapped his chest. “Much more for you to learn.”

As she walked off, Bucky couldn’t help but stare out at the lake. The trees that surrounded it. The nature. Listening to the animals sing. It was perfect. There was no place better for recovery.

They made their way to the lab, after Shuri had supplied Bucky with some sandals. She went on to explain that they were going to test if the triggers were still there. As Bucky tensed, she stressed that they couldn’t possibly be, but they still had to test, to make sure. T’Challa was present in the lab, in his Black Panther suit – helmet off – and some Dora Milaje surrounded the lab. Shuri told them to back away from the bed, which they did.

Bucky knew there was good reason for this. But it made him feel uneasy, nonetheless. It didn’t help that he was gonna be strapped down too. He knew Shuri was a genius, hell, the entire lab proved that a genius spent all day working there. He had plenty of trust in her abilities. She had learnt all she could of the trigger words, even learning to speak them fluently. Nothing could possibly go wrong here.

Bucky nodded to her when he was ready, restrained to the bed he had woken up in. He clenched his fist as Shuri began reciting the words. As each word was said, Bucky tensed, closing his eyes softly. Hoping. Wishing. Screaming inside. His head was a mess of emotion as everything screamed at him to get away from the words.

Until.

Until nothing.

Shuri had stopped.

Nothing had happened.

His eyes slipped open and Shuri was already undoing the restraints, while the Dora Milaje relaxed and T’Challa broke out in a smile.

“They’re no more,” Shuri said triumphantly and Bucky just let out a breath of relief. Pure relief.

“Thank god,” he whispered, hopping off the bed as soon as he could.

T’Challa approached them as the Dora Milaje filtered out. “You finally get to rest, Sergeant.”

Bucky looked out the window, taking Wakanda in. “Yeah…”

T’Challa nodded once and took his leave, returning to kingly duties. Shuri was still brimming with excitement.

Bucky finally took the lab in fully. He hadn’t been able to ask much the last time he was there, since he was weak and still drugged up from the surgery, but now? Now he could pick Shuri’s brains over how everything worked. He could ask at length about vibranium, he’d always wanted to know ever since he first saw Steve’s shield. Or, what was once his shield. He could ask about the beads. The technology in his hut that didn’t look like technology and didn’t need electricity.

He wasn’t going to leave until he knew it all.

\--

When recovering in the village, a therapist would visit Bucky twice a week. This allowed for a quicker and more efficient recovery since Bucky very easily relapsed into negative thinking and dark thoughts as more and more memories came back to him. Through this he learnt of healthy processes and positive thinking. Swimming was brought up multiple times, and with the lake right outside his door, he very easily fell into a routine of morning swimming.

He was finding ways to crawl back to a healthy state of being. He would never be who he was in the ’30s or ’40s and he certainly wasn’t the guy he was a year ago. He was relearning himself, discovering who he was _now_. Little did he know, only a handful of countries away, Steve was doing the same.

He felt he belonged in the village. The inhabitants had always welcomed him in with open arms, but as time went on, they saw him less as an oddity and more like one of their own. The kids took a shine to him, the goats seemed to never want to be away from him and the adults decided it was best to teach him Xhosa at any opportunity.

They even let him tend to the goats on his own from time to time. Or look after the children for a few hours (though, they often teased and played with him so much that it was like _they_ were looking after _him_ ). He rarely spoke English in the village, as he picked up Xhosa with some ease.

He felt at home. At peace. Things were looking up.

But even with everyone around him, he felt a pang on loneliness. He knew the root, of course, he was missing Steve. He just didn’t know how to contact him.

When Shuri next turned up at the village, he intended to ask.

Although, humour came first as a goat followed Bucky and proudly stood as he made it to Shuri’s side.

“Hello there, little one.” Shuri crouched and stroked the goat. “Is this your favourite white wolf?”

Bucky laughed and also crouched down by the goat, whispering to it in Xhosa. He wanted to tell it to go away but didn’t have the guts, so instead he whispered that he loved the goat but that it had to go back to its friends. The goat did, after Bucky repeated ‘I love you, but you have to go’ a few times.

Both Shuri and Bucky stood, with smiles on their faces.

“That one was born last month,” Bucky said, looking back to the goat. “His mother died and the village made him my responsibility. We have a bond.”

Shuri giggled as the goat returned, curling by Bucky’s feet. “What’s his name?”

“Etienne.”

Shuri narrowed her eyes, smiling. “I see what you did there. The French form of Steven.”

“Steven wasn’t a good goat’s name.”

“Etienne suits the little one.”

Bucky nodded and glanced to the goat, his eyesight darting to the lake before settling on Shuri. “What brings you here, Your Highness?”

Shuri rolled her eyes. “Don’t use that title with me, _Sergeant Barnes_.” Both of them laughed, which shocked Etienne to his core, causing him to run off. They laughed a little longer, giggling at the little one finding comfort with one of the children. And then, Shuri sobered, looking back to Bucky. “I’m here to inform you on a few things.”

Bucky nodded and gestured for them to walk, which they did. “Such as?” he prompted.

“I know you like it here and you’re welcome to stay, but I set up some quarters for you in the palace. You can stay there whenever you like.”

“In the palace?” Bucky knew he had been welcomed in, but he didn’t think he was _that_ welcome.

Shuri smiled at him. “I thought you’d like to be near the lab.”

Bucky’s face lit up. “That would be perfect.” He frowned quickly, however. “Would it be okay if I only visited at the weekend?”

“Absolutely. Having you there at all would be nice.” She nudged him. “Remember, I have to show you _all_ the science.”

It had been something Bucky had said when he first started asking questions. ‘Show me all the science’. And Shuri had tried to when he first asked, but it was too much for one sitting. Whenever she visited the village, she tried to explain more, but it still didn’t explain everything. If Bucky was near the lab a couple of days a week, Shuri could get through it all.

“I can’t wait,” Bucky said, smiling brightly. And was it a healthy smile alright, because his eyes were alive now. “How can I contact Steve?” he asked after a moment.

Shuri grinned, she had been excited to tell Bucky of the news. “He’s visiting next week. I haven’t told him you’re awake yet…”

“Don’t. Let it be a surprise.”

She looked to Bucky, a faint smile on her lips, yet her eyes filled with concern. “He’ll have a heart attack on the spot.”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, I doubt it. Steve’s heart is made of stronger stuff than that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Why?” He glanced to her, practically feeling the worry in her tone.

“You didn’t see him while you slept.” Her eyes darted to the ground. “It was as if he was grieving.”

“He was afraid he was gonna lose me…” Bucky said absently. It was obvious really. He should have known.

“That’s why I worry he’ll have a heart attack.”

“He really won’t.”

“Shock then.”

“Maybe.” Bucky shrugged. “I want to surprise him.”

Shuri chuckled to herself. “You two are so…”

“We’re saps. Big saps,” Bucky interrupted. He smiled as he did so, proud of the fact.

“Not the word I was looking for.” She smiled. “It’ll do.”

The two made it to the palace not long after that. But before they made it to the lab, Shuri turned on her heel, sharply, entering a room. As soon as Bucky entered as well, Shuri shoved some clothes into him. He looked down at them, taking in their sharp lines. He knew straight away that this was yet more typical Wakandan clothing, and to be honest, he truly welcomed the newness of it.

“Go get washed up. You stink of goat,” Shuri teased, a smile never leaving her lips.

“I can’t help it.” Bucky shrugged. “They curl around me at night.”

Shuri laughed. “You are such a farmer.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Once Bucky washed up, donned his new clothing and dragged a comb through his hair, Shuri excitedly brought him to the lab, where plenty a scientist was busy working away. She took him to one side, where she worked most of the time. Plenty of technology and spare parts littered the tables. There was one section covered with a cloth, but Bucky presumed that was because it was incomplete.

Shuri smiled as Bucky hovered by some of the technology, not fully knowing what it was, but the cool patterns captured him anyway. He even went to pick up spare parts, having a look at their intricate design. He marvelled at it all, even turning to the screens to read what they were saying. All in all, he was transported back to when science was a love of his, rather than something that worked against him. He finally felt safe to love it again.

“I’ve been working on an arm…” Shuri said with a nervous air.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. He was just beginning to get used to one arm and found that it didn’t really bother him. He could get by. “I don’t want it. Not all the time.”

“You can decide but I think it’s pretty cool.” She whipped up the cloth, revealing the arm. It glinted in the light.

Bucky’s eyes trailed over the gold running through the dark vibranium. “It’s… amazing.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Maybe only have it on when I’m here?” Bucky kept staring, finding it hard to tear his eyes away from the thing. It was so different to the one that had been forcefully fitted to him. This one was a choice, not a necessity (to do evil). It was sleek. It had no marking to tie him to anything. It was one hell of a thing.

“Sounds like a plan!” She pulled out a box from under the table. “I designed an outfit… You won’t need it, hopefully. But it’s– just in case.”

Bucky peered in, seeing black clothing, perfect for any kind of spy, assassin, fighter. Agent even. But he didn’t like it this way, not at all. “I don’t want to ever use it… But, can we change the colours?”

“To what?”

He smirked. “Let’s make the jacket blue, the pants brown. We’ll keep that undershirt black, just because.”

Shuri nodded, smiling knowingly. “Like the old days?”

A smile bloomed across his face that he couldn’t control. “Yes, like the old days…” He peered further into the box. “Is that a thigh holster?!”

“You’re like a kid in an electronics store.”

“More like a kid in a science store.” If it was possible, his smile brightened even more. “I love it. Never wanna wear it but love it. It needs the blue, and we’ll need to make adjustments to the jacket.”

“Anything you need.”

“Are these…” Bucky pulled out a pair of boots. “These are so similar.”

Shuri took one of the boots and bent the leather back, showing the inside, where initials had been stitched in. Bucky squealed, causing Shuri to chortle a little. “Yeah, uh, I bought them?”

“And modified them?” He got a good look at the boot he was holding, it was definitely his. However, the leather and laces were darker, and it had folded over leather at the top.

“Decided to update them.”

“They’re perfect.” He placed everything back into the box, delicately. “I…” He finally looked back to Shuri. “Thank you, for everything, really.”

She lightly tapped his chest. “Anything for the only white boy I’d trust.”

Bucky chuckled. “Can I test the arm out?”

“Yeah.” She presented it to him. “You can connect it with one hand. It’s not too heavy.”

Bucky moved the cloth that covered his shoulder and took the arm, slotting it into place as both the prosthetic on his shoulder and the arm worked together to connect perfectly. As Bucky’s mind registered the arm as his, he moved it, wiggling the fingers.

“It’s… It feels like an arm,” he said, utterly bewildered as he moved the arm with ease. “It doesn’t feel like a weapon.”

Shuri smiled. “You deserve something normal.”

Bucky touched his other hand with the metal, understanding how it felt. And it was almost, _almost,_ like he could actually _feel_ the skin. “Does the technology do this?”

“Yes. I designed it so any pressure applied imitates touch.”

“Thank you.”

Shuri smiled once again. “Come on, I can teach you the science of it.”

\--

“Etienne! Get back here!” Bucky shouted, in Xhosa, as he ran after the goat.

The children of the village ran alongside him, trying their best to catch up with the unbelievably quick goat. They had been trying to feed Etienne, but a shout spooked him and off he was, flying through the grass.

It wasn’t exactly easy to sprint with one arm, but Bucky was getting by as Etienne circled around and ran towards the water. And Bucky was certainly not up for the village to smell like wet goat for the rest of the day. He managed to gain some extra speed from sheer willpower and dove down, catching Etienne in a hugging sort of fashion, one inch away from the water.

Etienne baaed up at Bucky, pretty much screaming at him. He rammed his head into Bucky’s chest and Bucky chuckled, standing back up, hooking Etienne safely on his arm. The children came running up, yelling triumphant words while also chanting White Wolf. Bucky laughed and walked away from the water, back to his hut, where the bottle of milk was.

He sat, placing Etienne back in his lap and picked up the bottle, offering it to him. Etienne instantly latched back on, drinking the milk excessively, largely due to all the running he had done. Bucky smiled down at him as he drained the bottle dry.

The children watched in awe as Etienne settled down and slept. They admired the bond Bucky had with the little one, as not many formed such connections with the goats.

“How do you do it?” one of the children asked in a whisper.

Bucky looked to the crowd of children that had formed. He pressed a finger to his lips, pointing to Etienne. “Don’t be _too_ loud,” he said. “The bond I have with Etienne is unique because I’ve looked after him since he was born, Kande.”

“But what about the other goats?” another child asked.

Bucky leant closer to them, careful not to disturb Etienne. “Ah, well, Ruzna, I think it’s my hair.”

The children giggled.

“They like to try and eat it.”

The giggling turned to full blown laughter, until the children covered their mouths with their hands. Luckily, Etienne didn’t stir. Some of the children ran off, not wanting to wake the little one with their persistent questions. While some stayed, watching Bucky’s hair sway in the wind.

“You should tie it up,” one said.

Bucky shook his head. “I like it down.” It was something he hadn’t thought too much about. The feeling of having it curling around his face comforted him. He had brought it up with his therapist, that having it short wouldn’t feel right anymore, fearing that it would take him back to worse times. No, the long hair felt his own now.

“You could tie parts of it up and leave the rest down,” a voice called out, but it was no child’s.

Bucky glanced up, smiling as Shuri joined the group. A few of the children hugged her before running off. “Maybe. But it takes too long.”

Shuri nodded and looked to Etienne. “That goat really likes you.”

“I’m his ma, ‘course he likes me.”

She laughed before glancing over her shoulder. “Steve is due to arrive tomorrow afternoon.”

Bucky furrowed his brow, touching his hair. “I need a shower.”

“I’m sure he’s seen worse than greasy hair.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess he has.” His face dropped as Etienne’s head popped up, he stroked him, calming the poor little one. “Still, I can make an effort.”

Shuri shook her head. “Yes, I see it now. You are both saps.”

“Ever since 1924.”

“Is that when you met?”

“Yeah. Saved him from the bullies.” Bucky shook his head, smiling. “He complained about me helping, said he had ‘em on the ropes. He didn’t.” He breathed deeply. “We became fast friends… we grew so close. Too close.”

Shuri raised an eyebrow as Bucky’s eyes snapped to her. He quickly ducked his head, shaking it. While Shuri frowned, piecing together the puzzle. She had worked it out, of course. It was obvious from Steve’s persistence that he watched Bucky in cryo, and from Bucky’s bright eyes whenever he got to talk about Steve.

Only, she didn’t know if it was obvious to _them_.

“Can’t wait to see him again,” Bucky said after a moment, a smile back on his face.

“Go get that shower.” She teasingly laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted to keep this to weekly updates but I might not be able to do that next week. If I can't get the third chapter up by next Monday, it willl be up by the Friday, I promise!
> 
> Come chat with me on [tumblr!](http://kateis-cakeis.tumblr.com/)


	3. Well Needed Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy so I got it up on my deadline!   
> Hope ya enjoy :)

The quinjet solidly landed on Wakandan ground and Steve let out a breath. He shrugged on his dark jacket, which went perfectly with his white shirt. Nothing much about his outfit brought colour, it was mostly bland and dark, apart from his sneakers, which were black with red soles. About the most vibrant thing he was wearing. He picked up his bag and got ready to face yet another few days of staring.

As he headed off the quinjet, Steve’s eyes darted to Shuri, who was standing way closer than T’Challa was. He was worried for a second, waiting for someone to say something.

“He’s awake,” Shuri said proudly. Giving no warning, no greeting.

Steve stopped still for a couple moments, getting his breathing in check as it kept hitching with all the emotion welling up. He almost felt a need to cry with pure joy. “For how long?” he squeaked out, his voice betraying him.

“The last two months.”

“You could have called me.”

Shuri shook her head. “You were doing important missions. Besides, Bucky is much better now. Two months of recovery and therapy have truly helped him.”

Steve glanced around. “Where is he?”

“In one of the outlying villages. I’ll take you there.”

Shuri got Steve to follow her, even in his shock, as they walked to a car, along with T’Challa. He didn’t even bother greeting Steve, as the poor guy was trapped in his own mind. All Steve could think about was how Bucky would be now, how he would look and so on. He let memories flow in his mind, remembering all their early days, every single thing they did together. Seeing him again would be one thing, actually having him back was another.

“You were right,” Shuri said, as they edged towards the village.

Steve snapped out of his thoughts, only to furrow his brow. “About what?”

“Bucky gets me to explain everything to him, in detail.”

“Does it annoy you?”

“Not at all. As I said, he’s the only white boy I’d trust,” Shuri teased, flashing a smile at Steve.

T’Challa let out a small laugh. “He never leaves the lab when he’s in the city.”

Steve smiled. “I’m glad he still has a love for science.”

They came to a stop just before the village and they all hopped out. Slowly, they made their way into the village. The kids yelled happily as they saw T’Challa, while the adults smiled. It was a rarity to see T’Challa, but with Bucky in their village, they knew it was inevitable to see him more often than usual.

The adults pointed towards the rolling fields.

“He’s not here,” one said. “He’s tending to Etienne, who had a fight with another goat.”

Shuri and T’Challa nodded, picking up their pace, with Steve quickly following behind. They wanted to get Steve to Bucky as soon as, the two of them had waited long enough. Steve wanted to question the goat’s name but knew that was a question for Bucky, not for the king and princess.

Soon enough, they found Bucky holding the two goats back, trying to reintroduce them to each other. He couldn’t let two goats have bad blood, especially since the goats were often left to roam the fields. He hadn’t even noticed the three walking up to him as he berated the goats in Xhosa.

“Now, Etienne, no more fights with goats bigger than you.” Bucky’s eyes flared as he looked to the other goat. “And no hurting this little one either, Usama.”

He let them go and the two goats fled, running away from each other. Bucky smiled at his work, until his gaze settled on Shuri, then T’Challa, followed up by Steve.

Steve stumbled forward, his bag slipping from his fingers. He barely managed to take in how much Bucky had changed. He looked healthy, well rested, happy. And his clothing told him how much Bucky had settled, had found peace. And it warmed Steve’s heart to no end. Because Bucky was safe. He was.

It seemed like Bucky was going through the same motions. Until, a smirk pulled at his lips. “Nice beard, punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve said automatically, falling into a hug with Bucky.

And Bucky wrapped his one arm around Steve so tightly, never ready to let go. Never. While Steve kept Bucky as close as he possibly could. They buried their faces in the other’s shoulder and Steve got the added bonus of Bucky’s newly washed hair, smelling of flowers almost. And, boy oh boy, did words not need to be said in that moment. They were just there, hugging, with all their might.

It became so intimate that T’Challa and Shuri snuck away with smirks on their faces. They may have been younger than the two super soldiers, but they knew exactly what was going on. With no noise made, Steve and Bucky were left in their hug.

Tears welled in their eyes, their arms cramped up and grew tired, the wind brushed through them and the sun shone down, boiling them. Yet, they didn’t move. They couldn’t move. Why would they? They had missed and yearned. But they had been on their roads to recovery.

Now was the perfect time to be back in each other’s arms.

And if the minutes ticked on by, neither seemed to care nor notice. This single hug meant more to them than anything else. Few would understand _just_ how important this was to them. Their first proper hug in seven decades. It was long overdue.

Nothing needed to be said in that moment. They already knew. Eventually, words would be spoken, but not right now. No, now was for hugging. It was almost as if they were both scared of losing each other. There was such a delicate balance. Steve had Bucky back now, but Bucky had the added worry of Steve being on the run, still doing reckless shit. He didn’t have to be a genius to know Steve would be out there not entirely following his old rules and morals. Shuri had said as much when she mentioned the missions Steve had told her about.

Bucky would hug the sadness out of Steve if he could. And Steve, he wanted to hug all of the bad years away for Bucky. But it couldn’t be done. Only therapy and lots of positive thinking could help them in that respect. Having each other to lean on, however, would be an added and needed bonus.

Five minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty-five minutes.

Time slipped away as tears were shared, as grips were tightened, as small sniffling sounds were made. Broken yet intact. Reunited. Alive. Safe.

Together.

They both backed out the hug as the sun reflected from the lake, casting its light into their eyes. But the contact wasn’t broken completely, as Steve leant his forehead against Bucky’s and Bucky cupped Steve’s jaw.

“I missed you,” Steve whispered.

“I need you,” Bucky replied, barely getting the words out.

They both smiled. And it wasn’t like all the small smiles Steve made during therapy, the appreciative ones or the hopeless ones that appeared when talking to Shuri about Bucky. And while Bucky had smiled plenty in the village, laughed a lot too, this was old. A pretty little ninety-year-old smile that Steve had burnt into his brain. It was familiar. It was a type of happiness that hadn’t graced them since the late ’30s. It was true and easy.

Still not wanting to break contact, Bucky guided Steve back to his hut with an arm around his shoulder at all times. The village was quiet, as if the kids had been shooed away, warned about disturbing this moment. And they understood, the kids, they knew what this meant to Bucky. Never would they ever ruin this for him. They couldn’t.

Once they were inside, Steve’s eyes darted around, taking in the small bits and pieces that lay about. The weirdly shaped containers that lay on the wall. The animal skins. The cloth that hung from the doorway, barely allowing privacy. The horns from a long dead animal (maybe a goat?). He stared at the objects that had a wicker texture but had a small hum to them. Definitely technology disguised. And, of course, there was a grill. The bed looked to be a collection of blankets and pillows, which Steve could only stare at.

“It’s comfortable,” Bucky said with a shrug. “It’s home.”

“It’s certainly… peaceful.” Steve smiled, setting his bag down. “It’s nice.”

Bucky sat and patted the floor, getting Steve to sit next to him. They sat, for a second, in silence, before Steve curled his hand around Bucky’s arm, just to _check_. He would use that excuse to his dying day, but in reality, he needed to have the comfort of Bucky’s warmth. He could practically hear Nat saying how he was pathetically touch starved.

Bucky stared at Steve’s hand. “I’m here.” He looked him in the eye. “I know.”

Steve closed his eyes for a brief second before trailing his hand down and intertwining their fingers. And if their hearts beat a little faster (a lot faster) and a little louder (yeah, that too was a lot), then neither of them was going to say anything, as they were well aware of what this was, had been for a long, long time.

After another ten minutes slipped away, Steve glanced to the ground. “So… we’re both getting therapy.”

Bucky scoffed, a grin stretched across his face. “ _You’re_ getting therapy?”

Steve nudged Bucky, gently. “Hey, I’m messed up too.”

“You’re not that bad.”

“I was.” He sighed, a shiver going through him. “I was before Sam kicked me into touch.”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand. “Jesus… Steve. I hadn’t noticed.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t for you to notice.” A bleak laugh escaped his lips. “You had a lot on and I had a good mask.”

“I think we both learnt to act happy a long time ago.”

“Yeah.” Steve shook his head, ridding his thoughts, most likely by using his learnt techniques. “How is therapy for you?”

Bucky nodded to himself, framing his answer. “I _was_ scared the horrors would never stop. I… remember a lot of what I did. The memories are there but there’s no thought behind them, they’re disconnected. But I’m learning to cope with it. Being here, in this village, it helps towards the positive thinking.”

“And therapy _is_ working?”

“Yeah. I haven’t felt so calm since before the war.” Bucky fiddled with his clothing. “I might go to the city at the end of the week but being on this farm helps me stay at peace.” He looked to Steve. “I wish you could have the same.”

Steve glanced to the ceiling of the hut, blowing out a breath. “I still gotta fight, Buck.”

“I know. But you don’t have to.” Bucky knocked Steve’s shoulder with his own, gently, just like Steve had done. “Isn’t it time you retire?”

“Not all of us get to go home.”

“You _can_. Is it healthy for you to be out there?”

Steve glanced to the ground. The tone in Bucky’s voice, the concern, it made him want to give it up. He had a life to live, but he couldn’t live it yet. “I don’t have a choice.”

“How is therapy supposed to work if you’re still fighting?”

He looked to Bucky, his eyes full of uncertainty. “I don’t know when to run away.”

Bucky leant his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “Stay for a while. _Please_.”

“I can’t leave Sam and Nat out there.”

“For a week. Just for a week.”

Steve sighed. “I guess I can do that.”

\--

“Etienne, huh?” Steve said, crouching by the goat in question. Etienne stared at Steve, till he rammed his head into Steve’s chest, knocking him down.

The following day had snuck its way through the woes of time. After a weirdly peaceful night of sleeping on the floor of Bucky’s hut, the two had ventured outside, and Bucky had the sole mission of introducing Steve to every goat around, starting with Etienne.

“He must see you as an imposter.” Bucky chuckled helping Steve up with a solid grip. “Etienne, this Steve is superior to you,” he said, slipping into Xhosa. He patted Steve’s shoulder. “This is Steve one. You’re Steve two.”

Steve laughed, his eyes crinkling.

Bucky looked to him with a furrowed brow. “You learnt Xhosa?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Shuri taught me some, in the early days, before Wanda split ways and before Sam, Natasha and I began taking Chitauri weapons off the market.” He stuck his hand out, hoping Etienne would see him as friendly. “I kept learning over the months.”

Bucky cast a sorrowful eye over him. “How long was it before you first left Wakanda?”

“A month.” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets. “It was hard to leave you.”

Unsure of how to reply to that, Bucky jumped to change the subject. “Have you got back into art yet?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “It helps, to draw.”

“Good.”

Etienne rammed his head into Steve’s legs, to which Bucky grabbed him and shook his head. Etienne snapped at him, nearly catching his chin. With another shake of the head, Bucky squeezed his belly, spooking Etienne, leading to him running off. Steve raised an eyebrow while Bucky sighed.

“He is definitely the goat version of you.”

“I’m not as bad as him,” Steve defended with a smirk, pointing towards the fleeing Etienne. “Besides, that goat is a coward.”

“True. But he’s my kid.” Bucky winked while Steve groaned. “Come on, more goats to introduce you to!”

“Will these ones be equally aggressive?”

Bucky considered that for a second, before throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulder. “Maybe the ones who hate Etienne, will hate you. After all, you’re Steve 1.0.”

As it turned out, the goats that hated Etienne quite liked Steve. Which helped Steve relax to no end. It may have been strange to adjust to all the different goats and their wildly different personalities, but at least they didn’t run into Etienne again in their journey. Which Steve was immensely grateful for.

Once they were done with the goats, Bucky explained that being in the village – while nice – was not where he wanted to be while Steve was there. So, soon enough, the two made it to Bucky’s quarters. Which were actually more like an apartment. It was open plan in its lay out, the kitchen, living room and dining area blending well together. There were only two doors. Bedroom and bathroom.

“This place is so different to your hut.” Steve said, his eyes scanning over the place and the more obvious technology.

“I prefer the farmer’s life. There’s more to do. But here, it’s everything I could have wished for as a twenty-six-year-old at the Stark Expo.”

“It must be relaxing, the farming.”

“My favourite part is learning the personalities of the goats. Oh, and the children are a pleasure to work with.”

“That’s a lot of _kids_ to deal with,” Steve teased, a smirk playing at his lips.

Bucky shook his head. “That plagiarism, Rogers.” He poked his shoulder. “Anyways, most of my goats aren’t kids.”

“But they’re your children?”

Bucky pursed his lips in thought. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.”

Steve grinned widely, Bucky’s tone alone told him everything he need to know. “I’m glad you’ve found a home here.”

“It’s only really home now that you’re with me.”

“You’re a sap.”

Bucky leant his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “So are you.”

Steve’s brows pitched together before his expression softened. He had planned to retort but got too easily distracted by Bucky leaning on him. He was well aware this was more of their touch starved needs shining through. He rubbed Bucky’s back for a second before he raised his head.

“I’m going to change.” Bucky smiled. “Shuri said we should meet her in her lab.”

“Okay.”

Bucky dressed into the clothing he had been supplied with. While some clothing was more traditional, he simply wore jeans and a t-shirt this time around.

He smiled at Steve before they set off towards the lab. “I like your sneakers,” he said, as they walked slowly down the halls.

“Sam suggested I add more colour to my attire.”

“You should.” Bucky glanced to him, smirking. “After all, you were colour-blind for more years than you’ve seen colour.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but found he had no words for that. He knew Bucky was right. Twenty-five years compared to eight. “Guess colour is still new to me.”

“Yeah?”

“I used to colour my drawings on a whim, Buck. Yeah, it’s still new.” He shrugged. “It’s not easy to adjust to, even after years.”

Bucky nodded. “Thought so.” He smiled. “Wakanda must throw you off.”

“Yeah, the colours are overwhelming. But I like seeing ‘em.”

They turned into the lab, seeing Shuri almost immediately, as she dabbled with something on a worktop. As they approached, Steve realised what it was and decided it was the most striking thing he had ever seen.

He pointed to it. “That arm is a masterpiece.”

Shuri blushed. “Really?”

“I’ve told you that plenty of times,” Bucky said, smiling.

She looked to him, a certain glint in her eye. “ _You’ve_ never called it a _masterpiece_.”

“It really is,” Steve said.

Bucky picked up the arm and clicked it into place, wiggling his fingers once he did. “Steve is right, it’s a masterpiece. A work of art.”

Shuri blushed further, a small smile appearing at her lips. “I don’t know why I’m so affected by this!” She buried her face in her hands.

Steve placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Having your creation admired is bound to make you blush and smile. Someone is complimenting something _you_ made. It’s about the best emotion in the world.”

“I don’t normally blush,” she murmured against her hands. She raised her head as Steve retracted his hand. “I know why. It’s because Steve is…” She looked between Steve and Bucky. “Never mind.”

“No, what is it?” Bucky said. It wasn’t like Shuri to hold back on what she was saying.

Shuri was smirking now, any sign of a blush gone. “Let’s just say, it’s the reassurance from Steve that makes me believe the arm is good for you.”

Steve and Bucky glanced to one another, shrugging. Shuri, still smirking, walked between them, heading towards the lab’s exit.

“Come on,” she said, “T’Challa wants to celebrate this occasion. He says your reunion is too important not to.”

Shuri led them to a room with a dining table full of food and wine. There were some blankets and cushions tucked away in the corner and the ceiling illuminated the room with colourful lights. To make it more of a party atmosphere, the windows had been darkened to simulate it being night rather than the middle of the afternoon.

T’Challa stood talking to Nakia, while a few other people that Steve and Bucky had come to know filled the room. As the lot of them noticed Steve and Bucky, they all beamed. Clearly happy to see the two back together, as it should always be. (At least, that’s what Shuri told them).

“It’s times like this that remind us all of what family should be,” T’Challa said, approaching them. “A connection to last beyond the constraints of time.”

“You’ve got that right,” Bucky said.

Steve smirked. “Bucky? Family? Where did you get that crazy idea from?”

Bucky shot him a glare. “You’re a punk.”

Steve’s smirk widened, as he got the reaction he wanted. “And you’re a jerk, pal.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Bucky wrapped his vibranium arm around Steve’s shoulder, catching him in a headlock. With his other hand, he rubbed his knuckles roughly against Steve’s head. Giving him a noogie Steve definitely couldn’t escape from, even if he used all his strength. So, he gave into it, laughing as he vaguely attempted to struggle.

T’Challa and Shuri stood there, exchanging looks as they weren’t sure if they were intruding on something. Oh, and they definitely noticed the radiant joy that came from the both of them. Never before had they seen either of them so _happy_. Sure, Bucky had been happy in the past months, but not like _this_. This was the oldest emotions, the oldest connections bubbling up to the top, easily allowing Steve and Bucky to ease back into their old ways.

Because that’s what was happening. Both Steve and Bucky knew it. With therapy helping them along the way, they were making it back to the people they once were. They could never be those people again, it didn’t work like that, but they recognised themselves again. It was close enough.

“Save it for the bedroom, Elders,” Okoye said, appearing beside the four.

Bucky released Steve, blushing slightly while Steve regained his breath, also seeming to blush a little. Okoye’s comment had brought them back to the world, but totally knocked them out of whack too. They may have forgotten where they were.

Shuri smiled. “Come on, let’s celebrate!”

Music sparked up around the room as people moved from their conversations to crowd around the table, taking some food. While they could sit, using the set up more like a buffet was far more effective. Steve and Bucky also stood by the table, both only taking small amounts of food, even though their metabolisms would rebel against that decision later.

“So, you can’t get drunk either?” Steve asked, sipping at the wine. At least he could fully appreciate the taste without the side effects.

“Nope.” Bucky shrugged. “My serum may have been different to yours, but the effects are pretty much the same.” He stared down at his wine. “I’ve only managed to get tipsy, but that was after downing forty bottles of vodka.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Jesus Christ… that’s what it takes?”

“It wore off almost immediately. Wasn’t even worth it.”

“Wish we could get drunk on this stuff.” Steve glanced around, seeing all the people who were already drunk only after an hour. They had already made the rounds and talked to everyone there, who had each said they felt joy in two friends reuniting this way. “I’ve forgotten the feeling.”

Bucky also had a look around. People definitely had no cares when drunk. “Yeah.” He smiled, slowly. “Hey, we’ll always be the sane ones.”

“We can still do stupid shit without being drunk.”

Bucky shrugged. “But we’ll be the ones with our head on straight.”

“I suppose.”

“Think of the benefits, Stevie.”

“Yeah, I can’t think of any.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and drank his wine while Steve just stared at him with this look in his eye. It had only been a day. And already, the two were joking like they used to. Things may have been far different, but it felt old and familiar too.

“Glad I got you back, Buck,” Steve said, still staring.

“Glad you’re with me,” Bucky replied. Steve thought he saw something remorseful in Bucky’s eyes, like some horrible memory crept up on him without realising.

After mingling with people for another hour, Steve and Bucky took to standing by a wall, reminiscing the best they could without dragging any emotions and regrets into it. They recalled many a good time, back in the day. And soon, Bucky talked at length about the farm. About all the goats, the children and how they called him ‘White Wolf’. Steve talked a bit about how Sam and Nat were doing, without mentioning anything about their missions. He just stuck to the little things.

People started filtering out after another hour passed. People had duties or jobs, but it seemed T’Challa was sticking around, despite being the King and everything. He and Nakia were pulling out the blankets and cushions, arranging them on the floor.

T’Challa clapped his hands together. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

Nakia laughed. “Really T’Challa, Truth or Dare?”

He looked to her and smiled, discreetly communicating something via his eyes as they darted to where Bucky and Steve were standing, still at the wall. “It’ll be fun,” he said.

Shuri smirked as she glanced to T’Challa. Now Nakia was clued in, she too was finding it hard not to smirk. Bucky and Steve failed to notice however, as they were too busy having a conversation of their own.

Shuri walked up to the table, picking up a grape and threw it at them. To which Bucky stuck out his vibranium arm and caught it. “Hey! Truth or Dare, we’re playing.”

Bucky popped the grape into his mouth as both he and Steve looked to Shuri. They nodded and glanced to each other, having a silent conversation. Mostly likely talking about how Shuri had been awfully intimidating.

“Good catch,” Steve said as the two made their way to the cushions.

Bucky smiled faintly, his cheeks flushed. “Thanks.”

The lot of them settled into the game, as everyone else had left by this point. It was strange really. Shuri mainly stuck to dares, the same with Nakia. T’Challa only went for truths, he was the king after all, dares could ruin his rep (even if it was only the five of them). Bucky and Steve had no consistency, they merely went with the flow.

Nakia looked to T’Challa, smirking lightly. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” he said, his tone dull, as if it was obvious which he would go for.

“Do you have a kink for bringing broken white boys into Wakanda?” Nakia’s smirk widened as T’Challa choked on air. Meanwhile, Shuri, Steve and Bucky were laughing their heads off.

“I’m not answering that,” T’Challa spluttered.

“Aw,” Shuri sounded. “I really wanted to know.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes and turned to Bucky. “Truth or Dare?”

Bucky shrugged. “Dare.”

“Okay.” T’Challa smiled as he thought for a second. “I dare you to kiss Steve.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, trying to fathom this peculiar dare, from T’Challa no less. Knowing there was no way out, he turned to Steve, who gestured with his eyes. Bucky faintly smiled as he placed a small peck on Steve’s cheek.

“There,” he said, smugly. But T’Challa (and especially Shuri) couldn’t miss how both Steve and Bucky blushed. After a second to compose a couple of responses, Bucky looked to Shuri. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Which goat of mine is your favourite?”

“Etienne, duh.” She smiled. “No other goat could compare.”

“That’s the right answer,” Bucky said, grinning.

Shuri turned her attention to Steve. The glint in her eye made him a little uneasy. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Steve said. He didn’t want to know what Shuri would dare him to do.

“Who… is the most gorgeous person you’ve ever met?”

Steve took a breath, actually pondering the question. There had been plenty of good looking people in his life, but he was well aware of which was truly the most gorgeous. Bucky glanced to him, wondering why he didn’t just blurt out Peggy. He knew they had a thing for each other, way back when. Knew the sparkle in Steve’s eyes. Knew that Steve had never looked at anyone else like that.

Shuri was almost glaring at him as Steve was quiet for a second too long. “Answer the question, Rogers.”

Steve sighed, wistfully. “Bucky.” He looked to him, furrowing his brow at Bucky’s wide eyes. “You thought it wouldn’t be you?”

“Your eyes used to sparkle when you looked at Peggy.” Bucky shrugged, glancing at the ground. “You’ve never looked at me like that.”

“Maybe because I stopped myself from doing so back then… Maybe because if I did, people would see just by looking at me that I’m a fa–” He shook his head, breaking himself off. Increasingly aware of the others around.

“Don’t you dare slip into that thinking, Steve,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hand into his. “Don’t you dare refer to yourself that way.”

He took a breath, feeling tears well up. “It’s hard not to remember… what people would shout. Even if it wasn’t directed at me, it still _hurt_.”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand. “I know.”

Shuri wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry for asking that truth,” she said, voice wavering. She hadn’t even begun to think of what a simple truth could drudge up.

Both Steve and Bucky waved dismissively.

“We have a lot to work out, that’s all,” Steve said.

T’Challa stood. “We’ll allow you to talk.”

Nakia and Shuri stood as well, frowning at the two. They all so easily forgot that Steve and Bucky came from a time so different to their own. That two men loving each other was once scorned and illegal. Attitudes had long since changed, hell, they’d been changed a whole lot longer in Wakanda, but there was still that homophobia, internalised or otherwise, that lingered in people.

“Talk to me,” Bucky said, his own eyes welled.

“That _word_ it just… it popped into my mind.” Steve glanced up. “It’s so ingrained that I can’t help but think of myself like that sometimes. Just a– a _fag_ , a _queer_.”

“No. No.” Bucky pulled Steve into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him. And, oh goodness, Steve was crying. He was crying his eyes out. “You’re not that. _We’re_ not. Not those words.”

“God, Buck, all those men and women that got dragged violently out of their houses and beaten by police. And we just– we knew it could so easily happen to us.” Steve shook as he sobbed loudly. “It was the only fight I couldn’t bear to get involved in.”

Silent tears escaped from Bucky’s eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t. They would’ve killed you, Steve. They would have beaten you half to death and killed you. That’s what they did to…” He trailed off as yet more tears escaped.

“To Dale. To Edmund. To–”

“Steve… stop. It’s in the past.”

“They lived on our block. They _knew_ us.” Steve hid his face in Bucky’s hair, hardly wanting to remind himself of those events. Dale and Edmund, they had lived together, until the police raided their house. And that was the end of their story.

“I remember…” Bucky closed his eyes tightly, scrunching them up. “Remember when we had that conversation…?”

“You said our safety came first.”

“And you got all fired up. Said we should ignore the laws and live our lives.”

“And then Dale, Edmund and Eileen were murdered. Were thrown out onto the sidewalk and beaten up or stabbed.” Steve hugged Bucky tighter. They didn’t need to do this, but in a strange way, they had to. They hadn’t discussed it all for so long. Hadn’t dared to think of how they once left their feelings behind. “So I backed down, gave up the fight. Gave up having that life with you far too soon.”

“We’re here now. Things are different. We can have that life now.” Bucky pulled back from the hug, instead he leant his forehead against Steve’s. “I loved you then. I love you now.”

Steve sucked in a breath. “I love you too, always have loved you. Since the start.”

Gently, Steve cupped Bucky’s jaw and the two fell into a kiss. It was full of sorrow, love, longing. It was so charged with the moment, so heartbreakingly not enough, it had been so long. It had no heat, just a soft press of the lips that ended too soon. But their emotions didn’t allow for anything else. They still had to talk.

“I… was almost found out back then. I think it was… 1940,” Bucky said, his breath ghosting over Steve’s lips.

Steve’s brow crinkled as he pulled back. They didn’t break contact entirely, Steve still had his hand at Bucky’s jaw. “How? What did you do?”

“I went to one of the bars… a few months after we agreed to stay safe. I missed that environment.” He shook his head. “The police raided the place not long after I arrived. I bolted when I got the chance. I ran until I couldn’t.”

“Was that the night you came home looking like the wind had whipped you up?”

“Yes.”

Steve pulled Bucky right back into a hug. His heartrate quickened in hearing that. Because one night, Bucky crashed into their apartment, out of breath, cloths askew, hair a complete mess. And he ignored Steve, immediately getting ready for bed. At the time, Steve had been scared out of his mind, thinking of what could have happened. “Shit, Buck. You could’ve told me.”

“I was scared you’d punch me or something.”

“I would have worried, yes, but you wanted to be yourself. Can’t blame you for that.”

“I’m… not sure what–” Bucky sighed.

“What you identity as?” Steve asked, recognising that specific tone. He withdrew from the hug, looking into Bucky’s eyes.

“Yeah… Dunno what feels right, now that queer ain’t the only option.”

“I identify as bisexual.” He smiled. “But you don’t have to go with a label.”

“I’ll work it out eventually.” Bucky flashed a bright smile.

The two made their way back to Bucky’s quarters after that, landing on the couch when they got in. Bucky leant his head on Steve’s shoulder, breathing out a sigh. Steve rested his own head atop Bucky’s, staring at the warm carpet.

“Remember when Dale managed to work it out?” Steve whispered.

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “He took one damn look at us and was like, ‘yeah, they’re like me’.”

“I remember his campaigns so clearly. He was convinced that we could all change things. And we never got involved…”

“Beating up bullies was different to going against the people.” Bucky grasped Steve’s hand. “Fear ruled us for good reason.”

Steve closed his eyes, allowing memories to flow through his mind. “Eileen was good a friend, and her girlfriend was too. Wonder if she’s still alive, what was her name?”

“Rita Morris.” Bucky thinned his lips. “She’d be pushing a hundred. No way is she still alive.”

“I’ll find out at some point.”

A memory popped into Bucky’s mind, almost intrusive in its nature. He smiled as he shifted, removing his head from Steve’s shoulder. “Remember when we were at that bar? And I asked if you were going to keep the outfit?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s eyebrows lightly crinkled. “Did you want me to keep it?”

He laughed lightly. “You looked hot in it.”

Steve cocked his head to the side, staring at Bucky before he chuckled. “Really? Because I thought it was ugly.”

“The tights were a real inconvenience for me.”

“Were they?”

Bucky leant closer. “Had to stop myself from pouncing on you.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “That would have been hard to explain.”

Bucky sat back, his arm now lying atop the couch. “T’Challa and Shuri set us up today.”

“Yeah, they did.” Steve tucked Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “Gave us a chance to talk things through.”

“We would’ve gotten there eventually.” Bucky yawned as the days events caught up with him.

Steve yawned too, catching onto its contagious ways. “Tired?”

“Mentally and physically.”

The two got up, gradually, and Bucky guided Steve to his room. Once there, Steve’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the calming colours and the still too obvious technology (though any blue light seemed to be overridden with an orange hue). It was definitely a place meant for sleep.

As Steve dug around in his bag, Bucky picked up some folded pyjamas from the pillows and took to changing. At that, Steve decided he could make Bucky’s life hell by changing into some sweatpants and staying shirtless. As Bucky looked to him, his eyes roamed over Steve’s chest, taking in each individual muscle.

“I’m never gonna sleep if you don’t put a shirt on.”

Steve raised a cheeky eyebrow. “Are you saying I’m distracting?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s eyes stayed staring at Steve’s abs. “Look at that. Just. _Look_ at you. You’re beefier than you were in the ’40s. This isn’t fair, Steve.”

Steve walked up to Bucky, deliberately tensing and puffing out his chest. He leant right up to Bucky’s ear. “Is more or less inconvenient than the tights?”

A shiver coursed through Bucky’s entire body. He gripped Steve’s shoulders to avoid something pathetic, like his legs giving way or something. It had been so long since they even remotely flirted with each other. “You _know_ the answer.”

Steve tackled Bucky towards the bed, pulling them both down. They bounced up slightly as the bed sprung back. Somehow, as the two were messing on, Bucky ended up on top of Steve, his hands pressing down on the bed on either side of Steve’s head. Bewildered by the moment, mainly because he was staring up at Bucky, Steve reached out and gently slid his hand along the vibranium arm.

“It looks so good on you.”

Bucky glanced to the arm. “Really?”

Steve traced the golden lines. “Yeah.”

Bucky smiled before rolling off of Steve, snuggling into him. “Glad you like it.”

Steve curled towards Bucky, wrapping his arms around him. This was safety. This was how it was supposed to be, how it had always been. It was as natural as it got. “Night, Buck.”

“Night.”


	4. The Old And The Boys

As light poured into the room, Steve stirred from what was simply, a good night’s rest. Sleeping for the whole night had become something of a rarity, but he had managed to sleep soundly till morning. As he came to his senses, realising Bucky was curled around him like a damn vine, he sighed in relief. Everything was perfect. Except, he only wished he could have planned better for this particular day.

He nudged Bucky, hiding a smirk as he slowly woke. Steve moved and propped himself up by his elbow, staring as Bucky turned to him, with groggy eyes, trying to glare.

“Happy 100th Birthday.”

Bucky flopped back down, letting out a laugh. “Doesn’t feel real.”

Steve smiled and cupped Bucky’s jaw, gazing at him. “On the upside, you don’t look a day over ninety-nine.”

“Very funny.”

Steve smiled before hopping off the bed and kneeling by his bag. He shuffled through a few things, eventually pulling out an object wrapped in shiny paper. It was a floral pattern which had ‘Happy Birthday’ plastered all over it. He passed it over to Bucky, who stared at it for a second.

“Flowery paper?” Bucky laughed as he began pulling the tape away.

“Would you believe me if I said it was the only paper they had?”

“No.” He glanced at Steve’s sincere expression. But he knew better, the small upwards tilt of his lips gave Steve away. “You can’t even keep a smirk off your face.”

Steve chuckled away as Bucky opened the present slowly, trying to preserve the paper regardless. Old habits shining through. “You can rip it open, you know.”

“Yeah, but then I won’t have the beautiful flowers anymore.”

After another minute, Bucky had managed to peel all the paper away, barely ripping it at all. A smile slowly spread across his face as he took the present in. It was a photo in a vintage frame. And the picture displayed?

It consisted of a small Steve poking his head through a carboard cut-out, Bucky doing the same. The heads were seemingly atop a woman and a man. The man had a full bathing suit on, complete with the traditional red and white stripes, his arm around the women with a long flowy dress on.

“How did you find this?”

“It was in museum storage.” Steve leant over, getting a good look at the picture. “I look fed up.”

“Well, you threw up ten minutes before this was taken.” Bucky traced his finger over the picture. “Goddamn Coney Island. You hated it so much.”

“I was battered and bruised afterwards, yeah, I hated it.” Steve chuckled, signalling that he had no hard feelings over it.

Bucky laughed also, recalling every detail he could about that day. Steve may have thrown up more times than they both cared to remember, and yeah, he had bruises all over his body for days, but it had been worth it. Bucky got Steve to enjoy himself that day, despite it all. “It’s a good picture. I love it.”

Bucky set the frame down on the bedside table. He turned to Steve, kissing him on the cheek. It was a great present, allowing the two to have something from their past, but not from the war, from before. Before everything went south.

“What’s for breakfast?”

Steve pursed his lips, thinking on that one. He scrambled off the bed. “I’ll make you pancakes.”

Bucky vehemently shook his head. “No way. Not after last time. I still don’t trust you.”

“That was before I learnt how to make them.”

Bucky stared for a second. “When did you last make them?”

Steve shuffled his feet. “1938… But I swear I’m better now!”

“Nope. I’m making them.”

Bucky jumped off the bed, sliding into the kitchen within seconds. He whipped the fridge open, grabbing the ingredients he needed. Steve trudged out of the bedroom, a tablet in hand, finding the coffee maker in the corner of the kitchen.

All in all, Bucky had a good reason for taking control of pancake making. While Steve had become a decent cook back in the day, he could never tackle pancakes, not like Bucky could. Steve’s always stuck to the pan, or were burnt, or underdone. Suffice it to say, they never came out right, no matter how hard Steve had tried. Because of that, he stuck to store bought pancakes ever since he’d been living in modern times.

“She’s alive,” Steve said, after he had sat at the island. He stared down at his tablet, sipping at his coffee as Bucky made the pancakes with far more efficiency than should have been allowed.

“Who?”

“Rita Morris.” Steve’s eyes widened as he read on. “She’s married to Dolores Williams.”

Bucky’s eyebrows crinkled. “Dot…? The redhead?” He spun around, two plates in his hands.

“Yeah.”

As he carefully put the plates on the island, Bucky hmphed. “Suppose that’s why she told me trying to win the bear was pointless.”

Steve let out a laugh. “I think that was more to do with your face.”

“Maybe. But you love this face.”

“Regrettably, I do.” He smirked and concentrated on typing something before turning to his pancakes. “I sent an email.”

“I can’t imagine Rita or Dolores using a computer.”

“Well, they do.” Steve pushed the tablet towards him, pointing to the contact details. Bucky pointed to one little detail, their social media accounts. Steve swivelled the tablet back around and began idly tapping as he ate breakfast. “Oh…”

“What is it?”

“There’s a video of them playing videogames with their great grandchildren.”

He spun the tablet back around and played the video. Rita and Dolores, as old as they were, looked to be in tip top shape. They sat on a large couch, with their great grandchildren around, holding controllers, with the TV blaring out the sound. The person holding the camera kept changing between the game (Mario Kart) and the couch. Rita and Dolores were, somehow, in the lead, before the video cut off. Their smiles were huge, and their great grandchildren seemed to be having equal amounts of fun.

“I think they’re better than we could be,” Bucky said, playing the video again. “I’m surprised they’re not letting the children win.”

“Both of them were always competitive.”

“What did you say in your email?”

With a few more taps on the screen, Steve brought up the sent email.

_‘Dear Rita and Dolores:_

_I am honestly glad to hear that you both are still alive and married to each other no less._

_It amazes me, even now, how much has changed since our day. Knowing you two are together, warms my heart. I hope you two are very happy, lord knows you deserve it._

_I can’t say much but I would love to stay in contact, as much as we can._

_Yours sincerely,  
Steve Rogers and James Barnes.’_

Bucky’s eyes scanned over the email, smiling as he reached the end. “That’s… a very nice email. I hope they reply.”

The tablet rang out and both Steve and Bucky blinked in surprise. With a few sure taps, an email rested in the inbox, labelled with the subject line ‘BUCKSTER AND STEVIEKIN’.

“Well, they remember us, at least,” Steve said, clicking onto the email.

Bucky laughed. “I forgot those nicknames existed.”

‘ _Dear Steve and **Bucky** ,_

_You think we wouldn’t remember that no one on the block called James James? I’m ashamed of you Steven. (And yes, we can tell you wrote the email, Bucky was never that polite)._

_We were about to go to bed when your email came through, and let us say, we were surprised. When we began seeing Captain America running around, we never expected you to remember us. Not at all. Let alone our sheer shock when we discovered Buckster was still alive._

_God, we prayed for you both in recent years. To know you’re at the very least in the same vicinity as each other is a godsend. You hardly deserve the fates you have been dealt, especially since you are both out of your time._

_Gosh, you had it rough back then. We all wished that you two would stay together, instead of splitting up. People stayed safe back then, you know? And I know – God, I know – that Dale and Edmund’s murders threw you off. And I know when we lost Eileen that it tore you both to pieces (don’t I know it). But please, tell us, are you together now?_

_The universe defied itself for you both. Steve, it made you survive your illnesses. Bucky, it made you survive to now. So, please, tell us everything you can. We want to know you’re okay. We may be old, but we’ve lived our lives. I think we can pass advice on._

_But I’m sure you want to know about us, huh? Dolores and I, we had a rough journey. But we always had our café, at least when we had it passed onto us in the ’60s. It belongs to the children now, as it should._

_We married men, had children of our own. Those children married and had children, who had children. More often than not, we have four generations in one room. Our children are old, like us. Our grandchildren are middle-aged. Our great grandchildren are anywhere from adults to children. And believe me when I say, we’re almost onto the fifth generation, all living. It’s lovely._

_But we never separated from each other. Dolores and I have always lived on the same streets. We’re in the suburbs now, all green and fresh air. Funny thing is, our husbands, they were gay. Marriage of convenience, as they say. When the world became more accepting, namely, fifteen years ago, both marriages ended. And when marriage became legal? We jumped at the chance._

_Almost six years now. And we’ve never been happier. Marriage does change you, but it makes you better. Keep that in mind, boys._

_Happy Birthday Buckster! Here’s to the next 100 years, yeah?_

_Best wishes,  
Rita and Dot.’_

“Wow…” That’s all Steve could say. It was a lot to digest, but as it seemed, Rita and Dolores had a tight hold on things. They were happy, even if their lives had been a rocky road. That’s all the two could have wished for.

“They remembered my birthday...” Bucky laughed, pointing to one sentence. “I remember being polite in the ’30s.”

“Yeah, but I had more manners.”

“Only when you weren’t fighting in the alleyways.”

Steve looked to Bucky, his eyes full of mirth. “Those fights were for social justice.”

“Of course.”

“What should we reply with?” Steve asked, and Bucky let a smirk overcome his face.

_‘Dear Rita and Dot,_

_Sorry to hear you had a rough journey. It sounds like it’s been daunting. But you made it through and that is amazing._

_Congratulations on almost making it to six years. We’re glad you’re happy._

_You’re right, Bucky and I have been on a tough road. You have probably heard it all by now, the news can be unrelenting. But we’re both recovering, we’re adjusting. We’ve found a safe place._

_And yes, we are together. We’re rebuilding this life of ours, we’re going to make it work._

_Almost five generations in one room sounds like a lot of fun. I can’t imagine what being surrounded with so much family is like. Is it noisy? Busy? Scary?_

_Hey, this is Bucky now. Excuse me but, you’re calling us boys? We may be biologically in our 30s, but we are not boys. Don’t talk about us as if we’re younger than you. ‘Course, I’m jesting. It’s startling to realise you are both old while we’re – I don’t know what Steve and I are. We’re not boys though._

_And thank you for remembering my birthday, it means a lot. We both miss everyone. We’re glad you’re both around._

_And, hey, Dot, remember when I tried to win that bear? Was it my face that put you off or my gender? (This is Steve, you do not have to answer that Dolores)._

_Steve here, I have another question. Are you already suggesting we get married? It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?_

_Sincerely,  
Steve and Bucky.’_

Bucky grinned at the email before tapping ‘send’. “I’m surprised at how easy this is.”

“What? Reconnecting with lost friends?” Steve smiled as he collected up their empty plates and took them to the sink.

“Yeah. As we said in the email, I miss everyone.” Bucky stared down at the tablet, clicking onto the video again, memorising the grins on their old friends. “Talking to Rita and Dot again, it’s relaxing.”

Steve moved next to Bucky, slinking his arm around his waist. Almost everyone they once knew was gone. And ‘almost’ wasn’t to be taken lightly. Steve had done some research, back when he was first defrosted. The only people who they _knew_ were still alive were Rita and Dolores. As depressing as that was. “Yeah. It’s like going home.”

Bucky smiled and stood, turning in Steve’s grip. “Got anything planned for today?”

“No. But then, I didn’t know you were awake.” Steve wrapped his other arm around Bucky’s waist, pulling him closer, allowing Steve to easily lean close to Bucky’s ear. “I’d suggest something fun… but T’Challa said we need to go to the lab.” He leant back and smirked at Bucky’s mock glare.

Still, Bucky grinned nonetheless. “You’re a tease.”

“Yeah, well, later, we’ll see how much teasing a one-hundred-year-old man can take.” Steve winked and withdrew from the hold, suppressing a laugh at Bucky swearing under his breath.

“You’re going to kill me, Rogers.”

“Hm… I think only over overexertion can do that.”

Bucky put his head in his hands and chuckled, breathing deeply as he raised his head, staring at Steve. “We’ll see who’ll die from overexertion.”

Steve held out his hand. “I’ll let you into a secret, it won’t be the ninety-eight-year-old.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and took Steve’s hand. “We’ll see about that.”

The two chuckled, quite uncontrollably, as they made their way down to the lab, hand in hand. People greeted them along the way, wishing Bucky a happy birthday at the same time. With that, Bucky was smiling, a lot. And Steve enjoyed seeing Bucky so happy, with his eyes smiling. There was even a bounce in his step.

When they got to the lab, the place was dark. Which was strange, since it was about the brightest room Steve had ever been in. It took all of two seconds for confetti to rain down from above. Shuri skipped into view with T’Challa following behind.

“Happy one hundredth!” Shuri shouted, picking up some of the confetti and throwing it at Bucky.

T’Challa smiled. “Yes. Happy Birthday, Bucky.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, brushing the confetti off himself with a large grin on his face.

“Someone turning one hundred doesn’t happen every day,” T’Challa began. “Because of this, I visit those who have survived a century.” He turned to Shuri, who handed him a gift box. “And I give them a special gift.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Why does your tone make me fear the present?”

Shuri giggled, so much so that she covered her mouth, calming herself. “We didn’t follow tradition this time,” she explained, her giggles quickly taking over once more.

T’Challa handed the box over to Bucky, who carefully lifted the lid off. Bucky’s eyes stayed staring on what was in the box before his eyes snapped up. “Are you serious?”

“Entirely.”

Steve glanced into the box, only to immediately burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s good.”

Bucky let the lid drop to the floor and reached into the box, taking out a plum. The box was full of the things, some were riper than others, but they could all be used regardless. “How did you know?”

Shuri grinned, unable to suppress a laugh as she said, “I may have seen you looking at ‘plum pie recipe’ once or twice.”

“Sneaky,” he murmured before a smile crept up on him. “Thank you.”

“Does this mean you’ll finally bake the infamous plum pie again?” Steve asked, beaming. It had been far too long since Bucky had baked the darn thing. And Steve was almost desperate to try it again, the sheer memory of it had him feeling hungry.

The recipe was one of the few things passed down in the Barnes family. And Bucky had certainly never let Steve know of the recipe, it was a family secret. The pie was well known around the block. If an event was going on and the pie was there, people jumped at the chance to grab a piece. Bucky had only baked it once, way back when, and it hadn’t turned out the best (largely due to Bucky getting distracted and forgetting the time), but Steve knew he was perfectly capable of getting it right. (As long as he didn’t distract Bucky).

“Yes… I forgot the timings though.” Bucky looked to Shuri and T’Challa. “That’s why I looked up recipes, to see how long people bake the pie for. I ruined it once, I can’t ruin it again,” he explained, to which Shuri and T’Challa nodded along, getting the vague gist that it was an old recipe.

“Make sure to send a piece along once you do bake it.” Shuri smiled. “Oh, and, since there was a party last night, we’ve decided to do something more traditional.”

“Like what?” Bucky asked, eyeing both Shuri and T’Challa. He was beginning to think the two were a typical set of conniving siblings.

“We don’t give one-hundred-year-olds parties, it’s too much on them. Instead, we pay for their dinner.” T’Challa grinned. “Head to the ‘Gastro Panther’ at dinner, they will accommodate you.”

Shuri glanced to where Steve’s hand was resting at Bucky’s back. “Are you together now?” she asked, a smile forming at her lips.

Bucky grinned, as bright as bright can be. “We are.” He picked the lid off the floor and placed it back on the box, protecting the plums.

“Good…” T’Challa looked to Shuri for a second, his lips slightly upturned.

Shuri narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you planning?”

T’Challa smiled. “If you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. Happy Birthday once again, Bucky.” He whisked out of there like a man on a mission.

Steve looked to Shuri, expecting an explanation. To which Shuri merely shrugged.

“I have no idea. But I’ve never seen him so invested in a couple before.” She giggled to herself. “I’d be scared if I were you two.”

“I honestly dread to think,” Bucky said, a small chuckle behind his breath.

\--

The Gastro Panther was a place of hearty food, traditional dishes and dishes from around the world. Recipes had been accumulated to the point that the menu was four pages long just for the main courses. The atmosphere of the place was traditionally Wakandan but had a few notable pieces from other countries too.

Steve and Bucky ordered vastly different things. While Steve went for a pasta dish, explaining to Bucky that pasta was becoming a favourite food of his, Bucky went for a goat stew. Steve stared at him, mouth gaping.

“I’m a farmer, what do you think happens to the goats?”

Steve closed his mouth and shook his head, mildly amused. “I don’t know… Maybe you milk them? Or something?”

Bucky shrugged. “Some are used for dairy, some are used for meat. It’s the way it works.”

“What will happen to Etienne?”

“The village agrees that he’s perfect for breeding.” Bucky smiled at how Steve’s expression relaxed. “Are you invested in my goats now?”

“Maybe…”

“You’re too empathetic,” Bucky said, shaking his head as he chuckled.

Once they were done with their meals, very nice ones at that, and their plates had been cleared away, Steve looked off to the side and nodded. Bucky raised his eyebrows at this but before he could say anything, the room went silent.

A second passed before everyone bellowed, “Happy one hundredth!”

And a cake was brought out by the head chef. They were carrying it like it was their pride and joy.

“Sorry for the shouting,” the chef said, placing the cake on the table. “We’re loud because one-hundred-year-olds tend to have hearing loss.”

Bucky nodded to the chef as they whisked away. And while his ears rung with all the shouting, he looked to the cake, taking it in. It was lined with icing. Atop it were icing sculptures of buildings emulating a 1930s Brooklyn. Below were icing people, a family. Bucky’s family.

Steve beamed as a smile consumed Bucky’s face, he kept turning the stand to see every small detail. And it was _immensely_ detailed. From the windows to the posters in the alleyways. Even small etchings in brick or concrete were present.

“Did you help with this…?” Bucky asked, not even taking his eyes away from what was simply a masterpiece.

“I drew sketch a while back and gave it to Shuri last night.”

“All this detail, Steve, it feels like this cake is straight from the past.” He smiled, even brighter. “It’s perfect.”

The candles of the cake lay upon the rooftops, to which Bucky promptly blew them out, allowing the cake to be cut open thereafter. It was the perfect blend between vanilla and chocolate, a balance if you will. It wasn’t too rich or too bland. It was everything it needed to be for a one-hundred-year-old. When the two were done with their slices, they passed pieces around the restaurant until everyone had a bit, and even after that, there were still bits left. Bucky picked up the stand and took it to the kitchen, insisting they took the rest of the cake for themselves.

“That thing was huge,” Bucky exclaimed as he and Steve walked back to his quarters, hand in hand.

“It was probably the best cake I’ve ever had.”

“Seconded.”

Steve looked to Bucky, smiling at the happiness radiating from him. “Has it been a good day?”

Bucky shot Steve a playful grin. “It’s about to get a whole lot better.”

When they made it back to the quarters, Bucky wasted no time with his last birthday present, something he hadn’t received from Steve in a long time. As the door slid closed, Bucky locked it before grabbing Steve and pushing him up against it.

He leant close to Steve’s ear, saying, “always wanted to have you against a door like this.”

Steve leant fully against the door, barely able to contain himself. “Mm… What do you want tonight?”

“You.”

Bucky pulled back, gently brushing his lips against Steve’s jaw before seeking his mouth, kissing slow and methodically until his tongue grazed Steve’s bottom lip, his lips parting instantly. The kiss deepened, gaining heat with every second. Sure, they would take it slow, but there was also the desperation of it being the first time in decades.

Steve’s knees very nearly gave out when Bucky snuck his hand up his shirt, planting it against Steve’s abs. If Steve lost his shirt now, Bucky would never sleep again. Though, as Steve’s thoughts were swirling, he knew that kind of thing was a tad bit of exaggeration.

As Bucky pulled Steve towards the bed, the last hours of his birthday encroached swiftly.

\--

_’Dear Steve and Bucky,_

_THANK GOODNESS YOU ARE BACK TOGETHER._

_That is the best news we’ve heard since we found out our oldest great grandchild is pregnant._

_What is even better is knowing you’re alright and safe. We would both cry ourselves to sleep if you weren’t. You both deserve so much. So, so much._

_Once the baby is born, we imagine five generations in one room will be nothing but screaming. For now, at least, it’s noisy, busy and scary. You hit the nail on the head there. Sometimes we’ll run out of food before five minutes have passed. There is simply too many of us._

_Oh… Bucky… Of course you and Steve are boys, you haven’t **lived** yet. You’re in your 30s, you have so many years to go. Yes, you may be one hundred, yes, Steve may be ninety-eight, but you haven’t lived those years. Not in the ways we have. _

_You’re old souls in young bodies._

_Why would we forget your birthday, Buckster? It was about the most entertaining event that ever happened in March. All I’m going to say is: 1939._

_We’ll be around for a while, boys. Unless one of us become ill, we’ll live for years to come._

_Hi, it’s Dot. Bucky, I hate to break it to ya, but it was definitely your face. Steve sees something in it that I can’t. Sorry. You never should have wasted $3 on that useless bear anyway. (It was ugly)._

_Oh, boys, it’s never too early to get married. It doesn’t have to be official with documents, since you’re both criminals, but you can have a ceremony, celebrate your love. You’re perfect for each other, don’t forget that.  
(Quote by Dot: “They’re perfect because they’re both extra”)_

_Best wishes,  
Rita and Dot.’_

Steve and Bucky had barely woken up when Steve had pulled the tablet from the table, looking through some things as he blinked his groggy eyes awake. He wasn’t surprised, at all, to see yet another email from Rita and Dot.

Bucky snatched the tablet from Steve to read it, excited to know some details, which led to quite a few laughs from the both of them, and maybe a grumble or two. They quickly began constructing another email, not caring that they’d rather be asleep. But, before they could even get through the first paragraph, their stomachs rumbled.

“What do you think of having plum pie for breakfast?” Bucky asked.

“I think you better get out of this bed right now and get on that.”

Bucky bolted out of the bed and skidded into the kitchen, reaching into the first cupboard to gain the ingredients he needed. He grabbed the sugar and flour, reached for a good lot of the plums from the box and collected up the rest of the ingredients within a minute. After that, he took to getting out all the equipment and turned on the oven.

Steve laughed as he came into the kitchen, taking in the haphazardly placed equipment. “How long will it take?”

“It’ll be done in an hour.”

Bucky grabbed a pan and chucked a bunch of stuff in, including sugar and plums. With that underway, he began multitasking as he changed from one thing to another, also making custard at the same time. He grabbed some spices as well, Steve supposed they were most likely a part of the secret Barnes recipe which made the pie so unique.

And he wasn’t wrong either, the pie was being pulled out of the oven only an hour later. He let it cool for a bit (really only a minute or two) and cut into it with no remorse, handing a piece to Steve, staring at him with hopeful eyes.

It took all of two seconds for Steve to hum in content, scooping up another bit of the pie. “This is just as good as I remember.”

“Thank god!” Bucky grinned as he picked up his plate, having a try.

And Steve was not lying. Bucky had baked the perfect Barnes plum pie. It was exactly the same as it was back in the day, living up to the cooking of his mother and all that came before. At long last, Bucky felt a connection to the secret recipe, one he would surely tell Steve one day, due to it only being known by memory and was no longer written down.

They sat, eating away, with the tablet in front of them, writing out their email of the day. There were plenty of smiles, laughs, breaks where they reminisced for no reason, like anyone would. They were settling into a routine of sorts, and they were both making it last, since Steve would be gone in a few days.

_‘Dear Rita and Dot,_

_It’s Bucky. Dot… I respect your decision to hate my face, but that bear does not deserve to be called ugly. It was small and cute; the button eyes were a feature._

_Anyway, between me and Steve, we’ve lived through too much. We may not look our age, but we feel it. What we’ve experienced has led to trauma. It drains us. Recovery has taken and will still take a long time. We’ll get there though. Sometimes we both want to be our real ages. We wished we could have lived instead of this. I suppose being in a world where we can be openly together is one of the few benefits._

_To brighten this message, I baked the Barnes plum pie again. According to Steve it was good. (It was actually perfect, but Bucky won’t take that compliment). I feel like I deserve to have the ancient knowledge of that recipe now. If I could attach a slice to this email, I would._

_Steve here, Bucky ran away (I did not, I went to wash the dishes) when I began typing this out._

_It’s too early for us to get married now. We both have lingering issues and we won’t be in the same place that often. A relationship is fine, marriage will make me want to stay and I can’t do that yet. I’m sure we’ll tie the knot eventually. We’ll celebrate our love like any couple would. (Not so sure on the being perfectdgfjfgkj – Excuse me, Rogers was being an idiot, we are absolutely perfect for each other)._

_We’re not extra._

_Sincerely,  
Steve and Bucky.’_

Bucky closed off the tablet after hitting send and placed it down. They had migrated to the coach during their time writing the email. “You shouldn’t doubt this.”

Steve looked to him, his eyes full of uncertainty. For why that was? Bucky had no idea. “ _Are_ we perfect for each other?”

“Yeah. I believe so.”

Steve scrubbed his face, his hands moving to his hair thereafter, brushing through it. “It’s just… all of this is…”

“We’re here.” Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve, placing a kiss at his temple. “We’re here and we’re good and safe. And I love you.” His words weren’t just reassurances, it was like Bucky was reminding himself of them too.

Steve leant his head against Bucky’s shoulder, letting out a sigh. “I think I’m still catching up with… everything.”

“Everything as in everything that’s happened? Or us?”

“Both. It’s still crazy to think we once lived in a time where we couldn’t be together.”

Bucky held onto Steve tighter, kissing his head. Yet another reassuring move, but a needed one. “We’re here.”

“We’re here,” Steve repeated. “Yeah. We are.”

“Hey.” Bucky moved out of the hold, grabbing Steve’s shoulder instead, getting him to look at him. “We’re safe here, okay? And I’m not going anywhere, yeah? So, I want you to promise me you won’t get yourself killed in your reckless fights.”

“I promise.” Steve smiled lightly. “Remember, I never took any of the stupid with me.”

Bucky huffed before pulling Steve into a hug. “You took all of the reckless with you instead.”

Steve let out a small laugh. “I’ll always come back to you, Buck. Always.”

“To the end of the line?”

“End of the line.”

They sat for a while, in a silence, finding comfort in just being in each other’s company. Steve had taken to drawing in his sketchpad, just some small drawings of Wakanda and its technology, while Bucky was messing about on the tablet, finding a website that seemed to be an archive of someone’s own. At least, that was what Steve managed to catch as he glanced over.

“Shuri told me that you’ve started watching Star Trek,” Steve said, eventually. He fancied a good conversation all of a sudden and he’d never got around to that particular ‘iconic series’.

Bucky set the tablet aside, suddenly smiling with the power of a thousand suns. “Everything in it is amazing.”

“I’ve never got around to it.”

Bucky grabbed a remote and a TV popped up from a table, the screen was far too wide for it to have been tucked away, but there it was nonetheless. “We have to watch it! Kirk and Spock are _in love_.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, casting a curious eye over Bucky. He’d never seen him quite so excited in a very long time. “Oh?”

Bucky – with swiftness – shifted through the menus, trying to find what he was looking for. “Shuri says they’re never canon– Uh, they never get into a relationship, but they’re still in love.”

Steve chuckled lightly. “You’re passionate about this.”

“I’ve learnt about shipping…” His frantic movements slowed. “I beg you, Steve, don’t follow me into this dark path.” He moved closer to Steve, smirking. “Fanfiction is dangerous.”

“How so?”

Bucky threw his hands up. “It’s mostly porn.”

“Sounds… interesting.”

“It’s not if you dig deeper and find fanfiction about real people.” Bucky shivered, placing down the remote. He hadn’t intended on diving into the murky mess that was real life fanfic, but here he was anyhow. “There’s fanfic about you and Stark. Or the Hulk and Stark. Or anyone and Stark.”

Steve, still finding the hilarity of it, grinned. “Fanfic is pretty gay, huh?”

“Pretty gay? No, no, _honey_ , it ain’t _pretty gay_. It’s extremely unapologetically gay.” Bucky’s head landed on Steve’s shoulder. “Please save me.”

“I don’t think I can.” Steve laughed, looking to Bucky. “Maybe Shuri can but I can’t.”

Bucky’s playful attitude melted away. He _really_ hadn’t meant to dive this far into what he knew, but he was there now. If only he had clicked onto Star Trek instead of heading straight into another rocky conversation. “There’s… fanfic about you and me, for some fucking reason. Some of it takes inspiration from our history. Some of it makes it animalistic because of the Winter Soldier. I never read any of it, the tags said it all.” He raised his head, staring at Steve’s wide eyes. “Steve... there are websites dedicated to theories about me. Like, actual theories about what happened and why the ‘war hero’ became an assassin.”

Steve could barely get passed the first part, never mind the second. “I… don’t know what to say to that.”

“I’m disturbed people would do that to us. Write about that. There’s _art_. I just– It’s so personal. I guess this century works this way but… they’ve been writing this stuff since before you came back.”

“Jesus…” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky. “Don’t go searching for real life fanfic again, okay?”

“I definitely won’t.” Bucky leant his head on Steve’s shoulder again. “I don’t want the public to ever know about this.”

“Then they will never know.”

When the two perked back up, Bucky started Star Trek, allowing the two to settle into a day of wonderous space exploration, fully aware that aliens were actually out there and that science fiction wasn’t entirely fiction after all.

The following day came at them quickly, after Star Trek took up their previous. Of course, that was perfectly okay, since Steve saw the light of the – as Bucky put it – the ship to inspire all ships. The two found themselves relaxing on the sofa again, enjoying silence as they both concentrated on their activities. Bucky was sewing up clothing that had gotten wrecked during his time down at the farm. Of course, Steve took to drawing.

“Can I draw you?” Steve asked as he finished shading a panther.

“Sure. I’m not going to move much while sewing.”

Steve grinned. “It’ll be like old times then.”

Bucky gradually smiled as he recalled. “Yeah, I was always sewing my shirts back together.”

“Only because your muscles kept ripping them.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Steve tilted his head, staring at Bucky. He knew he was right. The clothes Bucky had once worn quickly became to small for his shoulders and arms as he muscles built up the more he worked. So much so that he had to learn how to sew to keep from having to buy new clothes.

“That’s not how it happened.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. He was going to win this one, because he had the facts, and Bucky was wrong.

Bucky stared at Steve’s expression, shaking his head. “I wasn’t _that_ muscular then.”

Steve snorted and scoffed, turning to his sketchbook. “I remember differently.”

Bucky resumed his sewing. “Okay. Maybe that’s what happened.”

The two smiled widely as they fell back into silence. Bucky got stuck on a particular thread as it got tangled, allowing Steve time to sketch out a basic outline of Bucky’s concentration face and knotted threads. By the time Bucky finally managed to get the threads sorted and finished up the stitch, Steve had moved onto actually drawing.

He made sure to capture the way Bucky’s hair softly rested against half his face, and the way the clothing his was stitching flowed off his knees, as if it fanned out into a skirt. Steve was still drawing as Bucky managed to sew up the last ripped up piece of clothing. He glanced to Steve, knowing he would hate it if he ruined his in the zone mode, so he picked up the tablet, noticing a new email from Rita and Dot.

_‘Buckster and Steviekin,_

_I’m sorry, Steven Grant Rogers, did you just doubt that James Buchanan Barnes is perfect for you? How dare you._

_Don’t listen to him Bucky, he’s being stubborn, like always._

_Sad to hear about your lingering issues, hope you can sort it out eventually. What am I saying? You **will** work it out, you’re so young. That trauma you have? You’ll learn to control it, learn to let it go._

_Even if you’re not in the same place, having the tie that marriage brings is a reassurance. A reminder that you will always come home in the end._

_So… you just look like you’re in your 30s, yet your true age is much older? You’ve been through too much for one mind to hold?  I think we get that. Well, I don’t think anyone can get what either of you have been through. Anyhow, I think we understand._

_Okay, wow, how dare you have that plum pie without us? That pie is still remembered around here, if we knew the recipe we would bake it in memory, bake it in memory of everyone ;). Ugh, I so want a piece right now. That thing had to have had drugs in it. Did it?_

_Anyway, hope you’re having a good day, or night, wherever you are!_

_Rita and Dot.’_

Bucky smiled as he began typing out a reply, he would surely show the email to Steve later on, but he’d rather do it after Steve had finished. Back in the day, when he interrupted Steve while he was consumed by his drawing, long awkward silences and angry glares ensued. Right now, he didn’t fancy having to deal with that.

_‘Rita, Dot,_

_He doubted. He doubted a lot. But he saw sense. We’re here, that’s what matters._

_You both know I can’t give you the recipe, right? Sure, Steve will have it one day, but unfortunately, you guys aren’t Barnes’s. My hands are tied. It’s good to hear that the pie is remembered, it was a highly demanded dessert after all. I can assure you, its secret ingredient is absolutely drugs. Except, it’s not. But it could be. Or not. :)_

_Hey, what are you doing lately? What interests do you have now? How is old life treating you? Tell us everything!_

_Sincerely,  
Bucky. (And Steve but he’s busying drawing and didn’t write anything)._

_Excuse me. If you told me about the email I would have said something. Hi, Steve here, Bucky did let me draw, but I wanna ask a question of my own._

_What do you do if you’re partner is an asSEFPGHJ.’; An ass? (im not an ass)_

_–Steve.’_

As the two were trying to wrangle the tablet from the other, Steve managed to hit send as Bucky let him take the thing, laughing too much to hold onto it. Their straight up wrestling of the tablet was only in jest, no seriousness to it. Steve’s head landed on Bucky’s shoulder, laughing until his lungs hurt and he started coughing. Bucky felt an ancient jolt of panic run through him before his mind caught up with him. It was fine, Steve had just laughed his own breath away, it wasn’t like he was ill.

“Love you,” Bucky said, taking the tablet from Steve and placing it on the floor, taking Steve’s hands into his own after.

“Love you too.”

There was so much fondness behind their words. Like they’d said it a thousand times, like their relationship had been going on and on and nothing had ever happened. Unfortunately, a lot of shit had brought them there instead. And this relationship of there’s was so bright, so determined never to break. It would stay strong, keep them together. Wherever the end of the line was, they’d make it there.

There was a small bit of silence before Bucky just had to ruin it. He had a lingering question in his mind. And the memory which brought up the question was still so clear that he was able to remember a sad smile spreading over his face.

“Whatever happened to you and… that woman you kissed?” he asked.

Steve furrowed his brow before realising what Bucky was talking about. “Sharon?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing. I kissed her once and then, I never talked to her again.” Steve shrugged, half-heartedly. “I felt like she expected me to kiss her. And Nat had been pushing me to get with her for so long… And Peggy had just died.” He sighed. “I was confused, hurt and like always, I was doing things people wanted me to do. I guess it was a habit.”

“Did you want to be with her?”

“Nah. And besides, I think Peggy would personally come back from the dead to berate me for it.”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah. Carter would tear off your balls.”

Steve spluttered, chuckling. “She would. Definitely.”

Bucky, wanting to add more joy to this conversation, continued on, saying, “in fact, Carter would tear off your entire ass.”

“Yes.” Steve stared at Bucky for a second. “Why did you bring that up?”

“Just wanted to know… I don’t know.”

For the umpteenth time in recent days, reassurance and comfort was needed. Steve grasped Bucky’s hand, hoping the warmth would mean more than his words. “It doesn’t matter, Buck. I’m here with you, okay?”

“Yeah… But does this–” He really, really didn’t want to ask. He knew what Steve felt, that should have been enough. But he needed that reassurance. “Does this make you happy?”

Steve turned, facing Bucky directly. He grasped his shoulders, looking Bucky right in the eye. “ _Nothing_ has ever made me happier than this.”

Bucky shook his head before smiling, ever so slightly. “We’re idiots.”

“Mhm.”

The tablet pinged, and the two knew exactly what was waiting for them. Bucky reached for it and could barely contain his excitement as he tapped onto the new email. A quick skim of the words had to the two bursting out in laughter. Rita and Dot surely had that old reputation of having unconventional humour intact.

_‘Bucky, Steve,_

_I can’t believe it has come to this. Why can’t we have the plum pie recipe? We’re disappointed._

_Can’t we be family too??_

_Also, if the secret ingredient was drugs, you better be remorseful for those poor children who had a slice._

_What are we doing? We’re living out our retirement. We don’t go out too often, the family usually comes to us. Old life… it’s certainly interesting is what it is. But it treats us well, no illnesses as of yet. Touch wood and all that._

_Our interests mainly consist of being wise ol’ lesbians and teaching children about the wonders of love. Throughout the years we’ve learnt that kids are surprised that a person can love someone of the same gender, but not because of hate, because that has never been taught to them. Six and seven year olds have **no** idea. Straights just love to shove their agenda onto kids._

_Anyhow, I digress. Our real interests are simple. Movies. Games. Anything that’s gay. A bit of baking when our joints aren’t whining. Family. Family is the major interest._

_And Steve… there is nothing to do but be an ass back. I always trust in the method of getting back in the bedroom, teasing tends to reduce how much of an ass your partner can be. ;) (Dot here, I can absolutely confirm this). Have fun, kids!_

_Rita and Dot.’_

\--

Steve woke and instantly sighed. Why was he going already? He’d fallen into a routine, found a safe place with Bucky. _Lived_. And now? Now he was gonna jump head first back into the fight. No doubt having to deal with Nat and Sam wanting him to spill the beans, before they run off into a base of some sort to kill people and take weapons off the market.

But for now, for a few more hours, he was with Bucky.

They spent a little bit of the morning in bed before dragging themselves into the kitchen for some breakfast. They laughed, talked plenty, had a good time like Steve wasn’t about to go off and fight like the go-getter he was.

After they ate, they made their way down to the lab, to which Shuri handed Steve a tablet whilst also giving him a hug.

“Rogers, you better come back here in record time, otherwise I’m telling Bucky to get a new man, I promise you that,” she whispered before withdrawing from the hug, a sweet smile on. Bucky was lightly chuckling, having heard what Shuri had said.

Shuri pointed to the tablet, all proud. “You can send messages back and forth on that, no more burner phone.” She pointed to the screen, to one app. “I designed this myself. It’s like Skype, except secure. No need to worry about the UN.”

Steve smiled, placing the tablet in his bag. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I meant what I said.” She flicked a smile towards Bucky before her gaze darted to Steve, hardening. “Treat your best guy well.”

Steve and Bucky made their way to the quinjet. It was far too early for this. Too early in the morning, too much for their emotions. Steve didn’t want to leave, yet he wanted to continue to fight. What could he do really? The fight had always been in him. He had no real choice, and Bucky knew that. Didn’t blame him for it either. Just because _he_ was done with that life didn’t mean Steve was, not at all.

They stopped just by the quinjet, standing still for a second.

Then they were hugging, close and unbreakable. Steve didn’t know when he’d be back or if he’d be back anytime soon or… not at all. It was hard to let go when they’d just latched on, but that was the way it had to be.

Bucky leant back, capturing Steve’s lips, kissing slowly, peacefully almost. Like he was spilling all his words into the one kiss, because what else could be said? A kiss could tell a lot more than a word could.

“You better call regularly,” he said.

Steve smiled. “‘Course. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“You better.”

Bucky watched as Steve boarded the quinjet, like he didn’t even want to go. But he was going, and once the quinjet was in the air, it was off in a flash. Bucky deflated then, sighing.

He hoped that for once, Steve had left his recklessness behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hesitate to come chat with me on [tumblr!](http://kateis-cakeis.tumblr.com/)


	5. Only A Video Call Away

“Hey, Stevie!” Bucky said, his video popping up on screen. He was sitting against some tree while a goat lay in his lap.

The two had fallen into a bit of a routine. They would call when their time zones could line up to reasonable times of day, usually when it was nice and bright in Wakanda, because Steve liked to see all the goats in the background. It had been a few weeks since Steve had left, and plenty of video calls had ensued, but over the last week, Steve had been swamped by his work.

“Hey,” Steve grunted, lying on his hand, looking as if one more blink would send him to sleep. He was sitting in a quiet café, baseball cap pulled down. That only tended to happen when Nat and Sam were busy getting some shut eye, Bucky had learnt.

Noticing this lack of alertness, Bucky tapped on the screen a few times, finding a loud video. Which was actually just Etienne screaming, because he wouldn’t stop one night, and Bucky had recorded it… just in case.

As the screaming video began, Steve jumped up, looking more vigilant than ever. Although, in his movement, his earphones jumped out of his ears, so he spent the next couple of minutes trying to keep them in the damn things.

Still wanting to keep things light, Bucky said, “your beard is almost coming through the screen. Just wanted you to know.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s not that long.”

“It’s getting there.”

“How are you?”

“Great.” Bucky smiled. “Guess what.”

“What?” Steve was wary of Bucky’s playful tone. It tended to come along when he had news that was either the greatest thing of all time, or the worst. And Steve could never tell which it was beforehand.

“ _T’Challa_ , of all people, keeps asking if he can plan our wedding.”

Steve laughed, his eyes crinkling. That was certainly a surprise and nothing close to what he was thinking. “He should let one of us propose first.”

“Steve, I’m almost sure he’s helping Shuri design outfits.”

“What makes you sure?”

“The sketches I found in the lab labelled SR&BB. Shuri saw me and scrambled to hide them under a cloth. T’Challa has also been asking about our favourite colours, what music we like and what foods we like.” Bucky held up a piece of paper with bullet points on it, like he had been making a list of this. Maybe he was.

Steve’s eyebrows jolted up. “Why would T’Challa want to plan our wedding?”

“Because of his broken white boy kink.” Bucky chuckled away as Steve choked on air.

“Probably.”

Bucky stroked the goat in his lap, his lips thinning as he thought. “It’s too early for all that.”

“Yeah. Too much too soon,” Steve said, glancing up above the screen. He nodded and turned back to the webcam.

Bucky pointed. “What was that just now?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“ _Steve_.”

Steve sighed and adjusted an earphone. Avoidance. “I said it doesn’t matter. Besides, don’t we have to talk about how neither of us are ready for marriage and how T’Challa should stop?”

Bucky crossed his arms. He was not letting this go. “You’re in an empty café, without Natasha or Sam. You just nodded to someone off camera, and you expect me to assume your not doing something reckless?”

“Buck, I can handle myself.”

Bucky’s head thudded against the tree. “Sorry. I know that. It’s just– you’re doing stuff out there and I’m… I’m not scared but I fear what you’ll get yourself into.”

“I’m fine.” Steve looked up from the screen again. “I gotta go.”

“See ya.”

All Steve did was nod. He nodded, and the call was over, and he was gone. Off to do whatever he was doing. From how tired he looked, it was clear to see he wasn’t doing that mission with the help of Nat and Sam, which was what had Bucky scared. And he had no idea why. Steve had been Captain America, and in recent times, that really did stand for something. The first superhero had fought against aliens and robots, it didn’t get much more dangerous than that.

And Bucky knew that some of the stuff SHIELD had Steve do was the kinda stuff he had struggled with in war. Such as, stabbing someone in the back. But Steve had straight up assassinated people willingly, in his SHIELD days. Bucky downright knew Steve could handle himself.

He was well aware they were different people nowadays, but when Bucky had read his file, back when he was on the run, he’d learnt things about Steve that he hadn’t known were possible. Dark times or not.

Steve had done plenty worse during the war, but the missions he had done for SHIELD, well, a janitor was just one way to describe it.

And Bucky had no idea what Steve was doing now. What reckless shit was sending him down a path of darkness. Apparently therapy was helping, but Bucky couldn’t help but wonder how. Steve was on the run, a criminal, doing missions that weren’t even recorded. What was his body count now?

Well, Bucky didn’t ponder it much. Because Steve had changed, a lot. And suddenly, it was obvious that they still had to learn the new versions of each other. Because if Bucky felt this way towards Steve, then Steve must have been feeling similar.

It was a mess they’d muddle their way through.

\--

As it turned out, Steve’s mysterious mission had been an assassination. Getting some black market supplier for Chitauri weapons off the scene. Somehow this kinda of stuff wasn’t affecting Steve’s recovery. Bucky knew Steve had been fine during his stay in Wakanda, but what new trauma was he carving out for himself by doing missions like that? He shouldn’t have been worrying, it was Steve after all, but he wanted the both of them to be safe. This was the exact opposite of that.

Of course, Bucky couldn’t complain for long as Steve was heading back to Wakanda, a month after he had left. He had stressed that it was only for a few days, or less. Less. That’s what he had said. That likely meant two days and then he’d been gone. Bucky didn’t know if this was a system he could deal with, not now.

He had been happily relaxing by the lake, his feet in the water. Cooling off after a long day farming. Which, these days, happened to be a lot more of keeping the goats in check and healthy than much else.

The kids ran on by, some settling down by Bucky to mess with his hair, others were paddling in the lake. Bucky didn’t mind what the kids felt like doing, they’d had a long day learning more about farming. So, if they wanted to mess around, at Bucky’s expense, they were free to.

Although, the children around him soon scattered. Bucky glanced around, wondering why, when his eyes settled on a ship shape Steve. Only a week ago, Steve was clearly sleep deprived. Now, he was completely fine. Like Bucky had simply hallucinated the video call.

“Hey,” Bucky said.

“Hey,” Steve echoed, a bright smile on.

Bucky stood and strolled up to Steve, pulling him into a hug. “How are you?”

“Good. You?”

“Great.”

The two withdrew and without another word, walked back to Bucky’s hut. Greeting each other didn’t really matter much, Bucky just wanted to be in the same vicinity. That was enough, it was. Because he wasn’t even taking it for granted, he simply couldn’t afford to, what with Steve still in the fight and all.

Once they were inside the hut, Bucky had plenty of curiosity building up. Steve’s mental health being one. “Are you sure you’re good?”

Steve placed his bag down and sat – comfortably – on the floor. “I’ve got my coping mechanisms, got my positive thinking and the missions aren’t affecting me like you think they are.” He flicked a smile Bucky’s way. “‘Course I’m good.”

And Bucky was convinced by that. Actually, believed that this weird life Steve had was working for him. “Okay.”

After a good night’s sleep in each other’s arms, Bucky spent the morning doing his normal farming routine. This time around, they wouldn’t be going in the city, simply because Bucky didn’t want Steve to encounter T’Challa and his weird non-stop questions.

Steve was swarmed by children while Bucky was preparing goats for milking. He watched as Steve got the kids to sit in a semicircle, while he stood, looking as if he was telling a dramatic story. As Bucky took to the milking the goats, he paid attention to Steve and how the kids looked in awe. He had no idea what the story was, but it was a great one, by the looks of it.

And Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about Steve living there full time, telling the children all sorts of stories, maybe even farming. Well, maybe those wishes could come true one day. Maybe they could raise goats together, or a kid, or something. Bucky relished in those thoughts and imaginings. It was peaceful to think about, but it was also wishful thinking, for the time being.

Once Bucky was done with his work for the morning, he took Steve’s hand and led him down by the lake, on a walk of sorts. Just something nice for the both of them. Relaxing. Steve couldn’t keep a grin off his face as he marvelled about the wonderful children of the village. Bucky attempted to remind him that those ‘wonderful’ children could be quite scary sometimes. And tended to disrupt Bucky’s sleep.

“I really like it here,” Steve said as the two had almost circled back around.

‘So stay’. Bucky’s mind supplied, knowing that if he said that, he’d get a deflated sigh or an argument, and he wanted neither. Instead, he said, “me too.”

When Bucky got back to work, Steve disappeared into the hut for a good couple of hours. When he emerged, his expression was grim, almost dead. As he approached, Bucky knew that bad news was on the way. In fact, he’d guessed just what the news was. Steve had to go, already. Something must have been going down somewhere.

“Go. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” Bucky said.

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. You’re needed.” He put on his best earnest smile, he really didn’t want Steve to go already.

Steve kissed and hugged him goodbye, trudging back to the hut for his bag before leaving the village all together. Bucky watched him go until he couldn’t see Steve in the distance.

God, if this was his life now, he wasn’t ready. It was gonna get harder to let Steve go each and every time.

\--

Steve loved fighting. Probably more than he should have, especially since he was tired of it. And he especially loved fighting with Nat and Sam, their constant quipping as they fought reduced the seriousness of their situations. And maybe, lately, he got a bit too wrapped up in all of it. Not hesitating to head on to the next mission instead of taking a break. Not even Sam or Nat seemed to mind, they too were heading on, not stopping. Maybe they all needed something but refused to say it.

Steve hopped up onto the windowsill when they trudged into their hotel room. They were moving too much recently, following every crumb that fell into their laps. He lay against the window, his eyes following the few cars that were moving around the town. They were in rural Spain, which, for some reason, seemed to be the place where some ex-HYDRA agents had found a home. They didn’t seem to be working for the last scraps of HYDRA but were instead dipping their toes into the Chitauri weapons market.

“It’s been three months since we last took a break,” Steve said, as Sam was rifling through his clothes and Nat was twirling a knife in her hand.

“No, we’ve taken breaks,” Nat said, glancing towards Steve, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve visited Bucky three times.”

“For a day, before we had to follow up on our next mission.” He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the cars slowly driving around. “We need a _break_.”

“What are you thinking?” Sam asked, looking to Steve. “A week?”

“Two weeks.” He tore his eyes away, looking between the two of them. No one in that room looked particularly ready for their current mission, never mind more. No, they needed a good break, to rest up, gain a clear head. It was different when they had bigger missions, it allowed for rest. Lately, they’d been doing anything and everything, hardy staying anywhere for long.

Nat stilled her movements, putting the knife down. “Okay. I was desperate to stay in that city last month.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “Hardly a holiday destination.”

She tilted her head, glaring at Sam. “It was quaint.” She eyed Steve. “It’ll be Wakanda for you?”

“Shuri will kill me if I don’t go back.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Steve’s dramatics. “I’ve seen you talking to her during your video chats, she is not lethal.”

Steve scoffed, hopping off the windowsill. “You don’t know her like I do.” He paced over to his bag, glancing to the clock in the room. “Almost time. We better get moving.”

\--

Steve sat back in his chair, pushing his earphones into his ears and settled down while the app called Bucky. It took a minute before the call was answered, but not by Bucky. Instead Shuri was sitting by the lake, watching something in the distance. Steve could only guess what was going on. He had a pretty good idea.

“Shuri, where’s Bucky?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“He’s chasing goats like a white wolf would.” She smiled. “How are you?”

“I’m great. Sam found a café which cooked food in all the old ways. I felt home in it.” Steve grinned. “Speaking of which, I’m taking a break soon.” He raised an expectant eyebrow, to which Shuri scoffed at him.

“Of course you can come, Steve. As T’Challa says, this is your home if you want it.” Shuri leant closer to the screen, as if she was about to tell a secret. “After all, you’ve done a lot for Wakanda.”

Steve took a breath, leaning back, exhaling. “We’re not supposed to talk about that.”

“Without those few missions last month, we would be in a much worse position.” Shuri leant back. “What I said still stands. This is your home.”

He considered that for a moment, Bucky was there and that made it home, but could it really be a home full time for him? Nevertheless, he was grateful to be trusted in such a way. “Thank you.”

“How long will it be this time?”

“Two weeks, we need it.”

“Yeah, you do.” Shuri diverted her eyes, like she was looking above the screen. “Ah, Bucky’s resolved the issue. Have fun chatting to your boyfriend.”

Steve shook his head, grinning nonetheless. “I will.”

The camera pointed towards the ground as the device was passed over to Bucky. He twisted the tablet around, smiling at Steve as he strolled further into the fields.

“Hey, doll.”

“You just gonna call me doll from now on?” Steve asked, smiling bright. It was something Bucky had started up a couple of video calls ago, and now, he hadn’t stopped.

Bucky grinned, triumphantly. “It is my go to.”

“You two make me feel sick!” Nat called as she strolled passed Steve’s webcam. She only knew what Steve had said, but then, maybe it was their smiles that she was teasing about. Off camera, she threw a paper bag at Steve. He peered inside, bringing out a burger box.

“Thanks, Nat!”

“Whatever, Rogers.”

Bucky was laughing his head off on the other side, just as he found a nice spot by the trees. “She having your life?”

“Always.”

“What was that, Stevie boy?” Nat called, her voice muffled as she ate. Her tone wasn’t nearly as teasing while she had her mouth full. Steve was almost convinced she could actually hear the call, even though he had earphones in.

“Nothing!” he shouted back.

“Where are you?” Bucky wondered, noticing the vast open space and bright light. Normally, their motel room of the week was dark and small.

“We tracked ex-HYDRA agents to this location. After we took them out, we decided to take a rest.”

“HYDRA was hiding in… what? A mansion?”

And what a lovely mansion it was. Getting the nice Spain summer sun, overlooking picturesque views. The place itself was huge, filled with expensive objects and luxury furnishings.

“Yeah. They weren’t ready for a fight.”

Bucky nodded along. “Thought they were in the clear.”

“Mhm.”

“Dumbasses.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “You got that right.” He flipped open his burger box. “What you been up to?”

“Well, Etienne is being a bastard by causing fights with the other goats, so I’m teaching him discipline.”

“That rascal needs it.”

Bucky mock glared. “So does Steve 1.0.”

“I am perfectly disciplined.”

“‘Course.” Bucky paused before his eyes lit up. “I got another email from Rita and Dot today. They say you better get your ass back here soon.”

“Oh, you’re all talking behind my back now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m taking a two week break in a couple days,” Steve said, smiling as Bucky beamed.

“Finally.”

They chatted back and forth. On Steve’s end, he gave vague updates, not wanting to dive too much into what was going on. It wasn’t always a fun topic, at all. Steve mainly let Bucky talk about farming and Shuri’s science (which flew right over his head). And at one point, Bucky seemed to notice this, so he switched tactics, only starting conversations that allowed the both of them to talk.

And then the call ended as the day headed into night. Steve plucked the earphones out of his ears and lay back in the chair, letting out a content sigh.

Things were going just fine.

\--

Steve had been in Wakanda for a couple days, enjoying all that it brought. The sun, the heat, the goddamn luscious views, even in the city, which was where he had ended up. It had been near the end of the week when he arrived, so Bucky wanted to head up to the city a little earlier than usual.

While Bucky settled into a nice book in his quarters, Steve had decided he wanted to see T’Challa. He didn’t want to mix business with his break, but now was a good time to see if T’Challa needed anything else done.

Not long after he began wandering down the hallways, T’Challa fell into step with him, hands behind his back, lips thinned.

“I was wondering if Wakanda needed help at all,” Steve said as the two aimlessly walked.

“No. Those requests were all we needed from you.” He glanced to Steve, smirking. “Business aside, can I ask a question?”

Steve raised his eyebrow. Of course T’Challa, a goddamn king, would seek permission to ask a question. “Sure.”

T’Challa’s expression seemed to fall into a thoughtful one as he said, “Bucky didn’t know this, though, I’m curious. What do you like to eat on a Thursday afternoon after a big event?”

Steve had to – absolutely had to – refrain from bursting out in laughter and walking away in disbelief. “Something fresh. Not sure what.”

T’Challa gave a nod. “Thank you.” And he was gone in an instant.

Steve turned on his heel, heading back to the quarters. His abrupt return confused Bucky but before he could say anything, Steve laughed and planted himself on the couch Bucky was sitting at. It was a good few minutes before Steve found his composure, so Bucky just sat, amused at what was going on. Clearly, something hilarious had happened.

“T’Challa is definitely planning our wedding,” Steve – eventually – said, as if this was new information.

“What obscure question was it?”

“Oh, just my favourite food on a Thursday afternoon.”

“So it’s on a Thursday! Good to know.” Bucky twisted around the couch, pulling out a folder, containing a few sheets of paper. He flipped open the file, finding a pen from nowhere and turned to one piece of paper, scribbling down the info.

Steve leant closer, having a look at the various bullet points littering the paper. “You have a file?”

Bucky nodded, engrossed in the thing. “Mhm.”

His eyes vaguely skimmed over the words, but Bucky’s handwriting was untidy in places, like he had written while laughing his head off. “What do you know?”

“It’s on a Thursday, likely midday. T’Challa seems to like the idea of us in suits with waistcoats. Yours is gonna be light blue, mine is a deep green. Blame T’Challa for these colours.”

Steve nodded along. Having a wedding planned for you less than subtly when you hadn’t proposed yet was not something Steve could say he was used to. But he and Bucky were seemingly taking it in their strides.

“Not sure on the starter,” Bucky continued. “The main is gonna be a roast, dessert is a soufflé. I’m not sure why it’s that, but it is.”

“Alright… Anything else?”

Bucky slapped the file shut. “That’s all I’ve managed to gleam.”

Steve blew out a breath, a laugh coming along with it. “How is this happening? How is a _king_ deciding to plan a wedding that isn’t happening yet?”

“Because T’Challa is invested now.”

They glanced at each other before bursting out in laughter at the bizarre notion. It was certainly more than strange, but what could they say? They were well aware that both T’Challa and Shuri cared deeply about their relationship, they were almost glad for it.

“He still needs to let one of us propose first,” Steve said, once the laughter had calmed.

“Yeah, I know.”

\--

The two weeks came and went like a summer breeze. Something you craved once it was gone. Because what people said was true, time did fly on by when you had fun. And Steve found it harder to leave again, had gotten used to the domesticity of living for two weeks. Got used to Bucky teaching him all about goat farming. Had found a home along with Bucky. To leave, well, it was just a decision he had to make, regrettably. There were plenty of missions to do, and he couldn’t leave Sam and Nat in the lurch, that wouldn’t be fair.

Summer was just beginning its last month the next time Steve made it back. The mission had been a long one, requiring them to actually stay in one place as they figured out who actually ran an operation for Chitauri weapons in Italy. They were beginning to think they were getting close to taking all Chitauri weapons off the market. After that, maybe things would calm for them. Maybe they’d get to live properly again.

For now, Bucky had told Steve to just meet him in the quarters, since he had something planned. Something fun, he’d said. So Steve made his way, entering the quarters to an empty space, no Bucky in sight.

He placed his bag down, letting out a sigh as his eyes darted over the place. This was where he wanted to be, if only circumstances would allow it.

Bucky came into the quarters, after a few minutes, attaching his vibranium arm. “We’re going to the jungle today.”

Steve looked to him, shaking his head, like he was disappointed. “Don’t I get a hello?”

“Sure.” He clicked his arm in and kissed Steve. “Hi, I want to go to the jungle today.”

“Why?”

Bucky held up a phone. “Pictures.”

The jungle was powerful in both noise and nature. There were clear paths to follow, almost allowing you to take a tour of the place. From squawking birds, to small mammals skittering about, the place was filled to the brim with life.

Bucky whipped up the camera to take a couple snaps of the wildlife, but that wasn’t his goal. When he found a good spot, with some parrots sitting on far branches and monkeys chilling in the trees, Bucky turned the camera towards himself. He hooked his arm around Steve’s shoulder, capturing them in the perfect moment. The two of them beaming, with nature looking on.

Lots of pictures were taken, and Bucky ensured he would get them printed. It was to catalogue memories, keep them fresh with pictures, keep them around. Memories could so easily fade, pictures kept them alive and kicking. Pictures proved a story, and that’s the kinda thing the two needed.

After their more than joyful walk and exploration through the jungle, they headed back into the city, only to be caught by Shuri in the corridors. She gestured silently to them, taking them back to the lab, not even saying a word. The two were well aware this was unusual behaviour from Shuri and were curious as to what was going on.

“T’Challa is getting out of hand. He’s smug about this wedding he’s planning,” Shuri said as she dragged the two to a secluded corner. “He is driving _me_ mad. I don’t know how it affects you two.”

Steve shrugged. “It doesn’t bother us.”

“It doesn’t?

Bucky smiled. His folder actually allowed for a fun pastime, trying to work out from the questions and answers what was going to be included in the wedding. It was merely a complex puzzle. “Nah. We’re seeing how long it will take for him to realise that we know.”

“He thinks you both have no idea.” Shuri came to recall an earlier conversation, her eyes lighting up with it. “Oh, your starter is stuffed peppers, in case you didn’t know.”

“I’ll put it in the file,” Bucky said, as if he’d just struck a goldmine.

Shuri covered her eyes, smiling yet done with this. “You have a file… Why don’t one of you propose, get this over with?”

“Not ready yet,” Steve – simply – supplied.

“It’s not like you haven’t been through thick and thin to get here.”

Steve gazed at Bucky for a second. Thick and thin didn’t even cover it. His eyes went soft as Bucky looked to him. “Yeah, but there’s no rush.”

Shuri nodded. “I’ll get T’Challa off your backs.”

“Is anyone capable of that?” Bucky quipped, chuckling.

“I can certainly try.”

At that, Steve and Bucky nodded a ‘good luck’ to Shuri and made their way back to Bucky’s quarters. The day was heading well into the late afternoon, and the two were surely ready for a good lie down, maybe even sleep. But, dinner had to be made, so that came first.

As Bucky settled in to cooking up a pasta dish, Steve could visibly see a question bubbling up inside of him. Or an argument to make. Either or. It was clear from the tension in his shoulders, from the sighs every time he opened his mouth. Bucky had something on his mind.

“You wanna say something,” Steve began. “Say it.”

Bucky sighed, again, deeper this time. Like he was preparing for the worst. “When will you stay?”

Steve sucked in a breath. Of course. Most of their conversations (arguments) came to this. To Bucky not be able to deal with Steve leaving again and again, hardly staying for more than a few days. If he got a week, the both of them savoured it to the last second. But recently, Bucky was getting more desperate.

“I don’t know.” He scrubbed his face. “I want to. Really, Buck, I do. But I can’t yet. You know this.”

Bucky dropped his head and stirred the pasta slowly. “Is it too much to ask? Is the idea of retiring this bad to you?”

“For the moment, yes.”

With a sigh, Bucky left the conversation at that, silently stirring the pasta and sauce until the meal was ready. They would exchange apologies later, but for now, Steve knew Bucky wasn’t happy. He just wished he knew how to give up.

\--

A mid-September afternoon was bright with glory. A mission had gone well, and Steve was excited for his scheduled call with Bucky. He sat back on a hotel bed, tablet in his lap, earphones in, ready for a good conversation. As he called, Bucky’s face filled the screen instantly.

“Hey… Steve.” Bucky’s hair was all tattered up and his eyes were drooping. He was already lying down in his hut. Ready for a good sleep.

“What goat rocked your world today?”

“Sansone and Antonio got into a fight and ended up in the lake.” Bucky brushed a hand through his hair, droplets flinging off. “They exhausted me.”

“Being a farmer’s hard, huh?”

“Not as bad as cleansing the world of highly powered weapons, pal.”

“You’re right there.”

Bucky closed his eyes, heading lying back against the blankets. “Shuri’s calling after you.”

“Let me guess. She’s wondering when the wedding is?”

Bucky grinned, eyes still closed. “Amongst other things.”

Right. Yes. Of course. Her promise. “Oh, is she gonna kick my ass when I get back?”

“Probably.” Bucky let out a sigh. “Talk at me for a bit?”

“You’ll fall asleep.”

“Hang up when I do. Just… I want to hear your voice.”

Bucky smiled as he said it, and how was Steve supposed to deny that? Bucky was exhausted after all, had a hard day’s work, he deserved this, even if he’d likely fall asleep within minutes. So, Steve talked. He told stories, reminding Bucky of the old days, which only got him smiles, since Bucky only wanted to be talked at. He went on to describe things, to put on artist’s lens on life for a moment. And Bucky smiled throughout.

“So I told him he was being standoffish, and he hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t thought he was being rude, all high and mighty in his restuar–” Steve spared a glance to Bucky, a smile now off his lips, his breathing slow and rhythmic. “Buck?” When no reply came, Steve smiled. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

And he hung up, feeling tired himself. He packed away and got changed, just before Nat and Sam got back from shopping. Which was less about getting food and more about getting alcohol. They stared at Steve, who was wrapped up in blankets, sleeping away. They sighed and shook their heads, taking to their groceries.

It was a few days before the time was perfect for another video call. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The time was not perfect. It was well into the night and Sam and Nat had knocked off early, beyond tired after the driving they’d done. (Steve hadn’t done much driving since he’d nearly crashed the car the last time).

“Hey, doll,” Bucky said as Steve answered the call. He was in his hut, lying against the wall.

Steve settled back against his chair, smiling like the sun had found a home in his teeth. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“It’s been awhile. How’s your mission?”

“Good. How’ve you been?”

“Better than ever.” Bucky leant on his hand. “When are you coming home?”

Steve looked over his shoulder. Sam and Nat were asleep but, even then, he couldn’t be sure if they actually were. “Sometime next week, when we wrap up here.”

Bucky nodded, moving on. “You’ll never believe it, but, Usama backed down from Etienne.”

“Now that sounds like Steve 2.0.”

Bucky paused for a second. “I mentioned Sansone the other day, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a new goat. I forgot to tell you that.” Bucky smiled. “He’s very… not up for bullshit.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh his ass off. “Sounds like a Sansone.”

“And Antonio is new too. He’s… well… He gets into fights with Etienne too often.”

“Is that why you called him Antonio?”

“Maybe…”

Steve grinned and shook his head, hardly believing that Bucky was giving them these types of names. Etienne was fair enough, a funny joke, but it seemed Bucky may have been taking it a little too seriously now. Not that Steve minded, it was still entertaining.

It was at that moment when Steve was assaulted by a pillow, causing him to laugh more than before. Nat was in the background, looking all groggy.

“Go to sleep, Rogers. Your boyfriend can wait.” She collapsed back against the bed, somewhat missing her second pillow. Steve threw it back, and Nat positioned it intently before burrowing her head into it.

“Hey, you should go, before they kill you,” Bucky said, chuckling lightly at what had happened.

“Call you back soon?”

“Absolutely. Now go sleep. You look like you need it.”

“Same to you, pal.”

The two exchanged quick goodbyes before hanging up. Steve positioned some blankets in a heap on the floor, curling into them and drifting off into a peaceful sleep. His nightmares had calmed considerably since the previous year, all due to therapy, so sleep really was peaceful. Allowing him to have dreams of jungles and goats instead.

\--

Soon was relative. The next call was a two weeks later, and Steve still hadn’t made it back to Wakanda. The mission had escalated and the three were needed, what else could they do? They were essentially stopping terrorist attacks these days. Few else could do what they were doing, especially now that SHIELD had seemingly collapsed again, with whatever happened over on their side.

No, these types of missions required highly skilled people such as themselves, who had faced way worse than this.

Anyhow, when they had managed to dismantle yet another network, Steve collapsed onto the hotel bed and pulled out his tablet, glad to be back in some form of comfort. The day had been a long one, the fighting endless. But they got there, they won in the end.

“Doll!” Bucky shouted at the screen once the call was answered. Steve was expecting him to sound angry, frustrated even. Instead, Bucky sounded ever so slightly worried, looked it too. Steve supposed that being left in the dark for two weeks would do that.

“Hey, swee–” Steve leant closer to his screen. “Is that Etienne fighting with Antonio?”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, the camera hitting the ground. “Fucking civil war all the damn time,” he murmured.

To which Steve laughed for a solid couple of minutes, only staring at the blue sky of Wakanda. He could hear the distant complaints from Bucky and annoyed goat sounds. Once the camera was being picked up from the ground, Bucky looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards.

“Well, Etienne is turning into a right dick,” he said. It was a good twenty minutes later, and Steve looked like he’d only just stopped laughing, Bucky noted this as he settled back down on the grass, the camera shaking.

“See, I told ya that goat ain’t me.”

“Maybe. But that works on the assumption that you aren’t a dick.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That goat is a much bigger dick. Steve 2.0 is a bad upgrade.”

“You might be right.”

“I’m right about a lotta things, Buck.”

That was when Bucky deflated like a goddamn balloon. Because this was the time, apparently, for him to suddenly dive into the murky mess that was their lives. Steve braced himself for whatever was coming, because it wasn’t gonna be fun.

“When are you coming back?” Bucky asked, head bowed to the ground.

“Soon, I promise. Maybe a few days.”

“Don’t promise…” He shook his head, trying his best. That’s what he was doing, keeping calm, trying his best. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” It was all Steve could say. He knew Bucky was screaming internally for him to stay, but what would another argument do, really?

“I love you… Come home when you can.”

Steve could hear Bucky’s voice breaking. Bucky wanted to shout at him, wanted to berate him for causing all this unneeded heartbreak, yearning. But Steve had to stay out in the fight. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he didn’t. All at the expense of Bucky’s feelings. “I will. I love you too.”

For once, though, Steve managed to catch a break, literally. The three decided now was the best time for a few days off. Just a few. It wouldn’t be a week this time, but it would do. It would. Nat could go somewhere with sights to see, and Sam could relax in a warm place with good drinks. And Steve? He could go home to his boyfriend, because dammit, there was no other place he’d rather be.

‘Course, when he hopped off the quinjet, someone came up to him, with a message from Bucky. Apparently, he’d be up in the quarters soon, so he should just go there and wait for him. Which was fair enough, Bucky had farm duties after all. Sometimes Steve didn’t come at the most convenient of times.

When Steve entered the quarters, however, something strange happened.

“Boo!” Bucky shouted, bouncing in front of Steve from the wall.

Steve jumped as he fell back against the wall, hitting off it. “The guy said you were coming up from the village.”

Bucky shrugged, striding up to Steve. “He lied so I could scare you.”

“Your sense of humour has never improved.”

“Why would it? It’s perfect.” Bucky kissed Steve, slow and steady.

Steve’s bag slipped from his fingers. He cupped Bucky’s jaw, pulling him in closer, if that was possible. Bucky used Steve’s jacket as leverage, pulling him from the wall and further into the room, edging towards the bedroom. Steve’s jacket and shirt soon found their place on the floor as the two made their way, kissing with haste, desire overtaking them.

“Need you,” Bucky murmured between kisses.

“Yeah?” Steve teased, grasping at the hem of Bucky’s shirt.

“God, yeah.”

Sometime later, the two lay in crumbled sheets, arms around each other, in a blissful silence. Their closeness kept them from their arguments because those were hardly worth it when they were cuddled up together. Bucky’s head lay on Steve’s shoulder as Steve repeatedly brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair. It was peaceful, perfect. That was until Bucky opened his mouth.

“How many days this time?” he asked.

It was the question Steve had been waiting for. He let out a sigh, his hands withdrawing from Bucky’s hair. “A couple days, but this mission is the last.”

Bucky stopped still for a second, like his mind had shut off. He placed his hand at Steve’s chest, rubbing circles. “You’re sure?”

“I get to retire. I get to go home.”

“You don’t have to.” Yet the tone of his voice betrayed him. This was all Bucky had wanted for _months_. Steve finally giving up the fight. It was never supposed to happen, but here it was, happening.

“Buck, I want to. Retiring sounds awful nice.”

“God, it is. Not fighting is amazing, Stevie.” He raised his head. “Love you.”

Steve beamed at him, leaning up for a kiss. “Love you too.”

If only Steve’s word actually stood for anything anymore. Because it didn’t stand for nothing. It _meant_ nothing. False hopes, all false. January now stood in their way, winter was currently whipping up some trouble for many places around, including the country Steve was currently in. Snow featured in the background of every video call. But that was all Bucky got, a video call here and there when Steve could get the time.

Sometimes Nat or Sam answered, which granted him some truth before Steve came along to lie like a lying a liar. And since when had Steve ever been able to lie? What had these past years _done_ to him? It was almost like everything within him had a darkness to it, where the deepest parts of Steve, the parts he’d always squished down, had risen.

Bucky sighed, anger boiling up as Steve answered the call. “You _are_ a dick,” he said, causing Steve to promptly roll his eyes.

“I’m on a mission, Bucky. I’ve got no choice.”

“It’s January. Right? You missed the _holidays_.” He huffed. “I can’t believe you won’t take a break.”

Steve leant forward, staring blankly. “I’ll take a break when the time comes.”

Bucky wasn’t gonna give in, not at all. “It’s fucking January, Steve. Don’t the criminals take breaks?”

“Yes. We do,” Steve said, bluntly. It was as if he was seeing himself as a criminal these days. “Besides, this mission is bigger than I thought.”

“You haven’t been back in three months. Three damn months. Almost four at this point.” Bucky crossed his arms, huffing. “The video calls are great, but half the time you’re running off to do something else.”

“I’ll be back when I’m back, Buck. You’ve gotta accept that.”

“How many more false promises will you make? How many times will you say, ‘this mission is the last’?”

Steve rolled his eyes once again, as if Bucky wasn’t right there. “This mission is the same mission.”

“It isn’t. It’s vaguely related and you know it.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Sam and Nat.”

Steve scoffed. “You don’t even trust me anymore?”

Bucky brushed a hand through his hair. “It isn’t that.” He dragged a hand down his face, his eyes flaring with anger, even through his frustration. “If you cared about us, you’d come home,” he argued, anger high in his tone, causing Steve to sit back in his chair, gaping.

“That’s low,” Steve scorned, before calming by taking breaths. He wanted his own anger to calm, to take control of the situation again. Stop the argument before it got too far. “I will. Buck, I’ll come home once I finish here.”

Bucky put his head in his hands, suddenly realising what they were doing. Steve’s calm tone had brought him back. They were fighting over something they both couldn’t change. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This is… It’s harder every time you’re away.”

“I know. I know.” Steve glanced to his phone as it rang out. “Nat’s calling, sorry.”

“No, no. You go.” Steve shot an apologetic look. “No, seriously, go. It’s fine.”

The call ended and Bucky lay against the wall, breathing out. Everything was great. Steve would come home eventually, once his fight was over. Bucky was convinced it was soon. Steve didn’t have much more to fight against, never mind much else.

Everything was great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think I'm gonna stick to updating every couple of days now. I was going keep doing weekly updates but I'm sick of waiting XD


	6. War Leaves Its Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, this is the Infinity War chapter

Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder. “You seem real happy, I’m glad.”

“Well, I get to finally go home.” Steve smiled, feeling peace swell within him. He could finally leave the fight behind him and find a new kind of life to live. They were on a quinjet, heading to Wakanda. “The therapy really helped.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Are we getting all mushy now?”

Sam turned to her, about to retort, when a phone rang out. A phone with only one number stored in it.

Steve dove into his bag, whipping out a flip phone, answering before he could think.

“Hello?” Steve’s eyebrows crinkled as Bruce’s – shaky – voice boomed down the line.

Everything was great until they got that call.

Everything was alright until Vision was willing to put himself up as a sacrifice.

It was awful, truly awful, as the battle was only minutes away.

Steve was attaching the shields to his arms while Bucky loaded up his gun. People were rushing beside them as they all prepared in the armoury. Many were dashing over to the battlefield, where they would fight for more than one just one place. The universe was on the line, trillions of lives, they had to get this right.

“Hey, T’Challa wants us on the frontlines,” Nat said, appearing by the two.

“Roger that,” Steve said, checking that the shields were working.

“Got it,” Bucky murmured as he held the gun close to his chest.

“He also said that once this is over, you’re both getting married regardless of what you say.” Nat smiled sweetly, as if she was in on the thing. (She wasn’t. At least, maybe she wasn’t).

“He really doesn’t understand that proposing comes before the wedding, does he?” Steve quipped, smiling as they made their way out.

“He has everything ready. All it would take is one of us asking the question, pal,” Bucky said, glancing towards Steve expectantly.

“Once this is over…”

“It better be romantic.”

Nat laughed purely because Bucky’s tone had been so blunt. “Guess that settles who’s proposing.”

And that, _that_ was the last bit of joy any of them had. The fight engulfed them quickly, taking over every single one of their senses as they battled for their lives, for everything. The creatures swiftly overpowered them. Until the bleakness was saved by magic light, by the god himself, Thor. And boy, was Steve glad to see the guy in one piece. Of course, he had vastly changed. New hair, new weapon, new Thor, really. And there was a talking raccoon and a tree, and if Steve wasn’t already used to aliens and magic stones and all that jazz, he would think he was hallucinating.

He wasn’t hallucinating though. Everything was real. Everything hurt. Holding Thanos’s fist back did nothing. Wanda destroying the mind stone and Vision did nothing. Time was rewound. Thanos won. That’s all Steve knew as he asked Thor repeatedly where Thanos went.

Everything was fine until he heard his name.

“Steve…?” Bucky called out, his arm slowly turning to dust.

Steve turned, his heart in his mouth, his pulse racketing against his skin. This truly could not, should not have been happening. How could it? Not again. Not. Again. All he could do was watch. That’s all he could do. As Bucky stared at his disappearing hand, stepping forward before his legs vanished into ash and his body fell, but nothing hit the ground. Instead, he completely turned to dust, his remains lying on the lush grass. The gun clattering off the ground.

Steve slowly walked forward, somehow willing his legs to carry him. No. He knelt gradually, stabilising himself. No. He reached out, not even thinking, as he touched the ash that was once Bucky. No.

 _No_.

He pressed his hand into it, covering his fingertips in the stuff. He suddenly couldn’t breathe, every single breath got caught in his throat. He tried, truly tried, he even stifled tears. But still, he was hyperventilating, kneeling by ash. And Thor was with him in an instant.

“Breathe, my friend. Breathe,” he said, placing at hand at his shoulder.

Steve’s head pounded, everything feeling like white noise. He withdrew his hand in a snap and shrugged Thor’s hand off his shoulder. He stood, getting his breath back in control as he stumbled into the clearing, taking note of another set of ashes and Vision’s lifeless, bleak, body. He collapsed by it, as if he was checking, but he already knew he was long dead.

He vaguely registered Thor walking off to the side, head bent low, axe lying limply in his hand. His own regrets were swirling in his mind, Steve was sure of that. Slowly, Bruce appeared in the clearing, still in the suit, along with Rhodey. The raccoon stumbled towards them, finding a place on a branch, his head bowed low. Soon after, Nat ran into the clearing, stopping right by Steve.

It dawned on him then, everyone had lost someone. Every single one of them. Ever person on earth, every alien in space. All had lost someone they knew. It came down on him like a crushing weight. In losing their battle, they had failed the universe.

“Oh god…” he said, his voice wavering. They lost. People were dead. Thanos had won, and they had no idea where he was.

\--

The survivors made their way back into the city, only to find people in despair over those who had suddenly turned to ash with no warning. The Dora Milaje went to help, clouded with their own loss when their fellow warriors disappeared from battlefield.

Steve found himself in a common room as people started to fill it, the people who were left. Shuri came running in, followed along by Nakia. They looked around the group of people, eyes darting, though their faces were already stained with tears. It was Okoye who walked up to them, speaking quietly about what had happened. They cried out as the news was spoken. Nakia sobbed loudly, speaking in pauses that Ramonda was gone too. Okoye guided Nakia out of the room, her own tears running down her cheeks.

Shuri stayed, if anything she was the leader of Wakanda now and the battle had only recently been lost. A plan had to be made, regardless of grief. She straightened up, wiped her tears away and made her way over to Thor, who was pacing.

“Okoye said you nearly killed Thanos,” Shuri began, gaining Thor’s attention. “Do you know what happened?”

“He succeeded. But I am sure we can take our revenge. If we obtain the infinity stones, we may be able to reverse what he did.”

“What if we can’t?”

“Then half the universe is gone.”

Shuri nodded, trying to keep strong. She made her way over to Steve, who had his head in his hands. Nat was beside him, as well as Rhodey. He had stepped out of his suit, leaving it at the other side of the room.

“You’re saying… Sam’s gone too?” Steve asked as Nat rubbed his back.

“I couldn’t find him anywhere. I found a pile of ashes instead,” Rhodey said, careful and slow, like his voice would fail if he was any louder.

Nat hung her head, her hand retracting. “So… That’s Wanda, Sam, Bucky and T’Challa. And Vision is dead.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey said.

“And Groot,” the raccoon very nearly yelled from his corner. “Groot too,” he said more quietly.

“Fuck…” Steve whispered. “Can we fix this?”

“Who knows,” Bruce said, approaching them. “Thor says the infinity stones are the answer.”

“They may be the answer,” Shuri said and everyone looked to her. “But right now, we all need to rest and recuperate.”

Suddenly, a noise rang out in the room. A ringtone. Everyone turned to Rhodey, who shrugged and moved towards his suit, pressing a button from the inside. A holographic popped up, a video call of sorts

“Barton?” Rhodey said, his eyes glancing over Clint, who looked completely wrecked, like the rest of them.

“You could’ve told me there was a war going on.”

“You alright?”

“No. My wife is gone. I tried to get into contact with Scott, but there’s no answer. Dunno what’s happened to him. Maybe he’s dust too.” Clint stared blankly. “A heads up would have been lovely.”

Shuri walked towards the suit. “I could send transport, bring you to Wakanda?”

Clint shook his head. “The offer is nice and all, but there’s clean up to do here. A lot of crashed cars and planes… and ash. My kids are a mess, moving away from their friends wouldn’t help.”

Everyone in the room was reserved, terrified by everything that was happening in and outside of Wakanda. It was almost too much to bear. Rhodey gave an update before Clint said his goodbyes, to which they all murmured condolences and goodbyes back.

Yeah, it was awful.

\--

Steve sat on a bed. Well, he was in Bucky’s quarters, so it was kinda his bed. And for goodness sake, it was supposed to be his home, same as the hut. Wakanda was going to be his home. Now? All he could feel was an emptiness he hadn’t felt since coming out of the ice. There were so many unknowns. Who was actually still alive? How many of their own had survived this 50/50 chance? It was impossible to know, to tell.

So, he sat, curled up on himself, staring at a picture in his hands. It was one Shuri sneakily snapped one day, when they sat in the lab. Steve’s smile was bright as Bucky explained the vibranium arm to him. He held the frame to his chest, tears falling.

There were plenty of pictures in the room. Ones where Steve and Bucky tended to the goats, selfies when they were out in the jungle. Pictures that were taken by Shuri or T’Challa when Steve and Bucky hugged, or kissed. They had them all framed when Shuri printed them, decorating the quarters with them. Of course, the one from Coney Island sat proudly on the bedside table. And one lay in Bucky’s hut too, with Steve and Bucky surrounded by children as they told them stories.

Something snapped in Steve as he remembered, a sob raking through him. He wanted to throw the picture, he wanted to tear up every damn thing in the room. He didn’t though. The picture was too precious. So, he let out a scream, rolled over on the bed and held onto the frame like it was the only thing to exist. He wept, bawled, wailed till his lungs cried out. He coughed repeatedly, his breath getting caught as yet more tears slipped out. He was dying, he felt like he was dying. Because what was this grief now? He had nothing to fight against, they didn’t even know where Thanos _was_. The war was won by the enemy. Bucky’s death wasn’t like the last time. It was much, much worse.

A knock echoed on the door, at some point. Steve didn’t know when. He rolled on the bed, facing the door, photo frame still stuck to his chest. He took a few calming breaths.

“Come in…” he whispered.

The door slid open, revealing Shuri, tears slipping down her cheeks. She stared at Steve’s curled up position, already knowing the answer to her question. “How are you?”

Steve sat up, holding the picture loosely in his hands. “Not good. You?”

“I’m…” She let out a sob, her tears racing down her face, pouring out with no mercy. “Awful. I feel like I’m dying all over again.”

God. It had only been a day and Steve so easily forgot how much pain everyone was in. Every single person had lost someone. It all pulled on their hearts. Tore at them. It was killing them. Half the population, half the damn universe, was gone, just like that. There hadn’t even been enough time to say goodbye.

Steve patted the space beside him and Shuri sat, trying to wipe her the tears from her face, a useless act. More tears flowed than could be wiped away. Maybe it was better that way, to share the pain in that way.

Shuri looked to the picture in Steve’s hands. “How did you handle losing him the first time?”

“I tried to drink myself into oblivion, only to find out I couldn’t get drunk...” He clutched the frame tightly. “I was depressed for five years.” He took a breath and his tears fell, unrelenting. Adding more to the watery mess that was his face. “I think I’ve slipped back into it. The depression.”

“Will you fight?”

He scoffed. “There’s nothing else I can do.” It was a template of a response, something thought out, something he _would_ say. But he didn’t feel it in his soul. He couldn’t feel the fire within him. It was gone.

Shuri nodded, none the wiser to Steve’s current condition. “We should all… rest, for a while. Make sure our minds are less clouded with grief before we fight.”

Steve shuddered, remembering the stabbing truth that everyone _was_ grieving. “Are you coping?”

“Enough.” She stood, nodding to herself, reassuring herself. “I’m going to rest, you should too.”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just lay back down, curling into a ball as Shuri left the room. This was worse, worse than before. Having your life ripped away from you once, you could get past that. Having your life ripped away from you twice? Well, there was nothing he could do, was there? Because he could feel the emptiness, the depression back in full force, the worst it had ever been.

It was a killer, to feel like that.

\--

Morning didn’t bring much joy. Steve had found himself waking up with the picture frame in his hands, while his clothes stank of sweat, from all his crying the previous day. And he couldn’t feel a damn thing. Well, he could. Sadness, that’s what lay in him. Even old memories barely brought him out of it, he barely cracked a smile at recollections of his most joyful moments.

He vaguely got washed up, by splashing water on his face. He placed the picture back in its place and instead, found a couple of sketchbooks. He made up a cup of coffee and sat at the island, taking one sketchbook into his hands.

He flipped it open, turning to the page where he drew Bucky sewing. Or rather, struggling with sewing. The corners of his mouth ever so slightly upturned, a blink and you’d miss it moment. Of course, he had way more drawings. That particular sketchbook was full of Bucky’s face, his body, his features. He flicked through it, staring at each one. Steve’s mouth twisted as he attempted to keep his emotions back. He had cried far too much the past couple days. He closed the pad gently, placing it down.

Completely forgetting about his coffee, he picked out the other, one he took on his missions. Every few pages was Sam, looking bright and cheery, his gleaming smile almost perfectly captured. Every drawing of Sam may have put his being into a single picture, but it was nothing more than lines on a page. Because what was the chance he’d ever hear a frustrated yet humorous noise after a bad joke again?

That was when the tablet pinged. The one where he and Bucky would contact Rita and Dot. He picked it up, from where it lay on the island. There was a single message, the subject line saying, ‘The world is on fire’. Steve opened it to find two paragraphs.

_‘If I have lost. So have you._

_Whoever is left… I’m sorry._

_– Dot.’_

Steve crumpled up on himself, pushing the tablet away. His head landed on the table, quite violently, and his arms surrounded him. He let out a sob, tears sinking into his sleeves, before he went completely silent, as if he was dead.

He had to get out. He couldn’t bear the hole in his chest. There was grief everywhere. Dot had lost Rita and probably more due to the size of her family. A nation was grieving its _king_. What would one more loss do? It would be so easy. So easy. All it would take–

Steve lifted his head, his eyes searching. He got up from his chair and padded into the kitchen, eyes determined, mouth pinched in thought. He grabbed a knife, his finger gliding over the edge. Perfect. He smiled, yet his eyes were dead.

He made his way into the bathroom, hoping to never come out. This would be it. He could finally end his misery. His death would mean nothing now that half the world was gone.

Screaming. Shouting. Swearing.

“Fuck! What have you done?! Oh shit. Shit, Steve!”

The voice was gone as quickly as it came.

More screaming.

“I need help in here! Steve has–!”

The voice faded swiftly. He knew the voice, it was so familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to it.

Steps. Lots of steps.

“Shit. Hang on, Steve.”

The world was slipping from view. He could only make out vague shapes as his limbs were being moved, lifted. They were trying to save him, he knew that much. They were pulling him from the bath. He let his eyes flutter shut, relishing in the feeling of warm blood curling around his arms, seeping from his skin.

He hoped they were too late.

“You’re an idiot. I hate you more than I hated Sam’s obsession with bad ’80s music.”

Darkness.

“Steve… If you needed help, you could have come to me. We all could have helped. T’Challa would have more grace in saying this but… you were foolish to think you were alone.”

Light.

“Come on, Rogers. You can’t die like a mortal.”

Pitch black.

“Cap… You gotta pull through, we know how to get them back.”

Too bright.

Steve blinked awake, taking in the intense white lights against a white background. It was blinding. Sterile, that’s what the room was. The windows let in plenty of light, while the lights above intensified that by a billion.

Then it all came flooding back. He glanced down to his arms, seeing a faint white line where torn open skin used to be. Not even a scar. Nothing to truly prove what he had tried to do.

“Hey…” a voice sounded from one side of the room.

“Tony…?” Steve’s head rolled along the pillow, barely finding his strength. Tony was watering some flowers that lay on a table by the window.

“It was my turn to watch you…” He looked to Steve, tiredness rang in his expression. It was obvious he wasn’t completely okay, like the rest of them.

“Watch me?” The words didn’t feel right, he wasn’t a child to be looked after.

“We had to make sure you wouldn’t try again when you woke.” Tony walked over to Steve’s bedside. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

Steve tried to push himself up, only to fail. He lay back down, wincing in pain from a headache he’d developed from the light. “Where were you?”

“I was on Titan. Thanos was there, until he got what he wanted and came here, I guess. I escaped on a ship that could barely fly.”

Tony’s speech was slow, weary. Steve knew that well, if not more so. “Who did you lose?”

“You remember the kid, Spiderman?”

“Yeah.”

“Him.”

Steve grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Tony turned to the bedside table and picked up a control, turning down the intensity of the lights. He had noticed Steve squinting at them. “You were out for two days. You lost over half of your blood.”

“Is that why I feel like shit?”

“Yes.”

Steve breathed, in and out. It was okay. It was fine. He was still alive despite his actions. “Is everyone else okay?”

“Everyone is still alive. We almost lost the raccoon, Rocket. I was with the rest of his team, on Titan, until… you know. When he found out, Rocket went to his room and didn’t come out for hours. Thor was concerned and went to check on him, finding him with a gun in his mouth. Thor saved his life.”

Steve closed his eyes softly, knowing that kind of pain all too well. “He’s alright?”

“Yeah.” Tony turned towards a jug of water and started pouring it into a glass. “We almost lost you, you know.”

Steve glanced to his arms. “I thought it wouldn’t matter.”

Tony stilled, placing the jug down. Looking to Steve, expression unreadable. Maybe there was shock from his words.

“Everyone has lost someone. What would one more death do?”

“You are worth more than that, Steve.”

“I don’t think I am. I would be dead if it wasn’t for this damn healing!” He hit his arms against the bed, tears forming at his eyes. “Why can’t I be dead…?”

Steve wanted Tony to explain, wanted him to tell him why he was still alive, why he had survived losing more than half his blood. Why his healing was so efficient it didn’t even leave scars.

Instead, Tony’s expression hardened as he stared down Steve. “Because believe it or not, people need you. We all need you. Not as a soldier, as a friend. Losing you would be a tragedy. That’s why you’re alive, because you have people.”

Tears slipped from Steve’s eyes, pouring down his cheeks. Everything came crashing down on him. What he had done, what he could have achieved. “I’m sorry. Oh god, I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes to avoid Tony’s stare. “Sam would kick my ass if he knew.”

“I heard he gave you therapy.”

“One of our main goals was to avoid doing suicidal shit...” Steve clenched his fists, wishing the lines would disappear faster. “I was doing well.”

“Relapsing is fine, but you should have told someone you were thinking of harming yourself.”

“It was a heat of a moment thing. I didn’t plan it.”

Tony picked up the glass and offered it to Steve. “Yeah, well, be glad Natasha decided to check on you.”

Steve nodded and took the water.

“Hey, Stark,” a voice called from the doorway. Shuri’s voice. “Oh! Steve, you’re awake.”

Tony walked towards the door. “Sorry, forgot to call the doctor.”

“It’s fine.” She smiled. “You take a break, you need rest.”

“Yeah.” He glanced to Steve. “It’s good to see you.”

Steve smiled, weakly, and then Tony was gone.

“You gave us all a scare. Even Thor was quivering at your bedside,” Shuri said, finding a seat next to Steve.

“I gave Thor a scare?”

“He kept saying that you couldn’t die like this, that you should die in battle. That you’re akin to an immortal?”

Steve closed his eyes, not wanting the reminder. “It’s the serum. It’s very effective and… and keeps my cells healthy. They don’t degrade. I either age slowly or I don’t age. I haven’t found out which it is yet.”

Shuri opened her mouth to speak before clamping it shut. She allowed herself to stare for a second, thinking, before she attempted again. “Because your telomeres won’t shorten when a cell copies itself, so your cells never age and never stop functioning.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Shuri sat up in her seat. “Telomeres are a structure on the end of a chromosome. Your DNA. It protects your DNA strands so cells can do their jobs. If they don’t shorten, you will always have that protection. And your cells will always be able to reproduce, so your tissues never degenerate, they won’t die.” She took a breath. “There are other factors that determine aging, but if the serum is _this_ effective at healing at a cellular level...” She pointed to Steve’s arms, “you’re DNA, proteins and lipids will be kept in perfect condition too… You don’t age.”

Steve opened his eyes and looked to Shuri, who seemed just as shocked at the revelation. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I would have to do research to check but yeah, I’m sure.”

“Shit…”

Shuri grasped Steve’s arm, comforting. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Steve looked to her, brow furrowed. “What does this make my lifespan?”

“As long as the serum always works, and you don’t get yourself killed in some other way… maybe forever.”

He huffed out a breath, swearing quietly. “Why can’t my life be normal?”

Shuri shrugged. “Didn’t you choose this?”

“I didn’t know enough.” He shook his head, planting a smile on his face. “Fancy finding out how to make a man age?”

Shuri sat up in her seat, looking at the clock in the room. “I could do research…” She glanced to Steve. “I’ll allow you to sleep for a while, before it’s Nat’s watch.”

“See you later.”

“Sleep well.”

When Shuri left the room, Steve closed his eyes and sighed, trying his best to get his mind to calm. Memories kept flashing, images of all sorts cropping up. Steve tried to battle them away, while also wanting to give in to them, to let the panic flow. He didn’t though, as his mind was snapped back with arguing outside, just as he was beginning to doze off as well.

Then, Nat came barging in, her face full of fury and fire. She paced back and forth, sparing a few glances Steve’s way. He’d never seen her so angry, so stressed. It looked as if she’d been killed only to be put back together, piece by piece.

“Who gave you fucking the right, Steve?!” she shouted, eventually. “You could have died!”

“I know, that was the intention,” he bluntly replied. He could feel nothing again, nothing but the hollowness.

Nat turned to him, coming to a stop. She clenched her fists, striding up to the bedside. “I found you, covered in blood, lying in a bathtub, half awake. You were dying right in front of my eyes. There was too much blood for you to be alive.” She shook her head, digging her nails into her palms. “The doctors said you’d been there for _hours_. They also said your injuries were minutes old.” She released her fists; tiny white crescents were marked into her skin. “Fuck you. Fuck. You.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say. He hadn’t even thought of the effects on other people.

Nat scoffed, bitterly. “If Barnes was here, he’d kill you.”

“But he isn’t, is he? He’s gone.”

“We know how to get them back, it’s okay.” She visibly relaxed, somehow. “They’re trapped in the soul stone.”

“What are we gonna do? Rewind time? Change reality? Mess with the soul stone?” He shook his head, bitterness ripe in his tone. “We don’t know if we’re ever getting them back.”

Nat scowled at him. “Where’s your fight, Rogers? Your hope?”

Steve stared at his arms once more. Why hadn’t he scarred? “I don’t know.”

“Shit, Steve. Is it the depression again?”

He smiled, despite it all. It was broken, saddened. “I think so...”

“Dammit.” Nat turned away, folding her arms. “Will you fight?”

“I want to. I _need_ to.”

“You just don’t feel it?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head and walked a few paces forward. “Get some sleep.” She glanced at him once more before leaving the room.

Steve fiddled with his covers, sighing. This was a goddamn mess. It was all a dreadful nightmare. But, apparently, there was a way to save the universe if that was really an option anymore. What would even happen if they got them back? Well, it depended on what they did really. Would they appear where they left them? Could they even free them from the soul stone? Or were they all really gone?

He hardly wanted to think about it, and if that was the case, he supposed no one else wanted to think about it either. And because of Steve’s actions, the sheer fear everyone had of losing another person, they kept him in that sterile room for a week. Which allowed a lot of time for Steve to think, and all his mind could jump to was… how many more were dead? How many had committed suicide after what had happened. Better yet, how many had _tried_? The shock, the grief, the heartache. How many people were gonna come back to find out their loved ones were dead instead? Either way, people were gonna get hurt.

When Steve was finally released, he went down to the village. He just wanted to be there for a few hours, find some familiarity somewhere else. And maybe he wanted to see if the village was in one piece, which he doubted. When he was almost there, he stopped in his tracks. Urns lay upon the ground, tiny ones, as if they couldn’t have had much ash inside. Steve’s stomach swelled with a feeling of nausea. Everyone lost someone.

One of the many adults of the village noticed Steve in the distance and made their way over. Steve knew she was a mother and judging by the toy she held to her chest and the tears running down her cheeks, she had lost too.

“You made my boy so happy when you told him stories. Ruzna felt at home when you told stories about you and...” She wiped a few tears away. “I know you have lost like I have.”

Steve’s throat dried up as he opened his mouth to speak. There was so much grief. “Jiya…” he eked out. “I’m so sorry.”

“We lost five of the children…” Jiya began, getting Steve to follow her into the village. “Hamza. Bahjat. Palesa. Didar. And… Ruzna.”

Steve covered his mouth as he noticed another seven urns, larger than the five. Twelve in total. For a village as small as this, that was… half their population, of course. Jiya knelt by the urns, holding the toy even closer to her chest. Steve bowed his head, paid his respects, and just… left the village. He said a quick goodbye, to which some of the people nodded to him. God, it was awful. It was far too much.

When Steve made it back to the quarters, he stumbled in and fell against the wall, sliding down it. His head fell into his hands and his world faded away as he cried his eyes out. At least the one benefit of crying was the emotional release it would bring, maybe he would even feel a bit better. But when he was done, when the tears had created puddles and sunk into his clothes, he just felt that horrible emptiness again. He wanted to feel his fight, the fire, the need for revenge, bitterness, _anything_. But here he was, on the ground, nothing but sadness within him.

He picked himself up, grabbed some ingredients from the kitchen, and made up some lunch. It was basic, just eggs and bacon, but once he was done, he went to the bedroom and slept until the day became dawn. He took care of himself, he owed that to the people he’d lost, but he didn’t really have anywhere to go. So, he just stayed in the quarters.

That was, until, everyone was called into a common room. Thor was in the middle of the room, allowing people to filter in around him. He had his axe in his hand, looking out to all who were there. And it was everyone. Well, everyone who was left. The ones who could fight, who _should_ be able to fight.

“It is time, my friends, to face the enemy. Those who will come with me must be ready to fight and prepared to die. Getting the infinity stones from Thanos will not be easy.” He glanced around the room.

Shuri perked up from her seat. “I can’t go. For now, I am the Queen of Wakanda and I can’t abandon my people.”

Thor nodded to her. “As a previous ruler, I understand that wholeheartedly.”

“I’ll go,” Steve said, just as Rocket said, “I’m going.”

Thor shook his head, disappointed with this notion. “I lost my brother to Thanos,” he began, “but I am a god, I will take my revenge as I rip Thanos from life.” He pointed to Rocket and Steve. “I cannot let you both come along. I have seen what grief has done to you. I would never send men into battle who would rather die than fight.”

“So that’s settled,” Tony said, blatantly ignoring how Steve clenched his fists, gaping at Thor. “We leave the depressed here and the rest of us can fight.”

Rhodey nodded along, seemingly agreeing with Tony.

Thor glared at Tony, nonetheless. “Are you fit? You haven’t made a joke since you arrived.”

“Now is not the time for jokes. It’s the time to fight and nothing else.” Tony kept his tone sharp, with a hint of anger.

“I _should_ go,” Steve said, his fists unclenching.

Nat put her hand on Steve’s arm, the single touch seemed to relax the tension throughout his body. Grief had consumed him in the worst of ways. He even lacked the energy to fight his corner, he dropped his head as soon as Nat let go.

“You’re not in any fit state,” she said.

“She’s right, y’know?” Rocket said, piping up from his seat. He looked so incredibly tired, not like the passionate raccoon they all met around two weeks ago. “We’re unpredictable.” A change of tune, certainly, but maybe he understood like Steve was only beginning to.

Thor gave a nod as Steve sat down, breathing slowly. “I only trust Stark, Nebula, Rhodes and Romanoff not to kill themselves.” He turned to Bruce. “Is Hulk going to make an appearance?”

Bruce wrung his hands. “Doesn’t seem like it. He really doesn’t want to fight Thanos again.”

“Then five of us must do.”

Nat stepped forward. “Thor, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am a Revenger. I am here to revenge.” Despite his words, Nat was not convinced.

“Let’s not delay. Thanos won’t be expecting us,” Nebula said, already heading for the door.

The lot of them made their way down to the ship. The thing had barely been repaired, but on Nebula’s insistence, it would be enough. For a few seconds, they all stood there, not quite sure how to supply goodbyes. A rematch with Thanos would essentially be five vs the powers of the universe. The odds did not stack up in their favour.

Thor smiled and patted Rocket on the head. “I will see you soon, Sweet Rabbit. I will return your family to you.”

“Thanks,” Rocket said, simply taking being patted on the head. If he was in a fitter state of mind he would have batted the hand away, but he wasn’t.

Thor waved as he walked backwards towards the ship, where Nebula was already aboard. Tony and Rhodey nodded to Nat, Bruce and Steve as they too boarded the ship. No one really wanted to say goodbye to anyone, given the recent events, doing that would only make it worse. Saying goodbye gave a possibility that it was the last time, and no one really needed that. Not now.

Nat turned to Steve. “Keep your suicidal ass alive.”

“I will.”

She glanced to Rocket. “You two should keep each other company.”

Rocket rolled his eyes. “This guy doesn’t talk about weapons, how am I supposed to keep _that_ company?”

“I’ll make them behave,” Shuri said, slightly smiling at Rocket’s comment.

Nat nodded to her. “You all stay safe.”

“You’re the one heading out to kill a purple monster,” Steve said.

“Yeah, and you two,” She pointed to Rocket and Steve. “are suicidal as shit. Stay safe.”

Nat smiled at them all, hugging Steve, and headed off into the ship. She gave a small wave and looked to Bruce for a second as the door closed.

Shuri crossed her arms as the ship jumped into the air. “I get off the hook on the suicidal part because thoughts don’t amount to actually trying. Keep faith.”

“Easier said than done, Princess,” Rocket grumbled before walking away.

Shuri placed her hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I can trust you to be alone, right?”

“I won’t do anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” Steve breathed deeply. “I won’t let my depression control me like that again.”

“Good.” She gave her best smile, trying. “Get some rest, you look terrible.”

Steve shrugged. “All I do is sleep.”

“Then… start drawing again. Enjoy something.” Shuri patted his shoulder once before heading off on her own. Really, none of them should have been left on their own. But it was hard enough as it was without people being there when you needed a good cry, or something like that.

Bruce wrung his hands as he headed back inside, glancing at Steve once. Steve smiled to him, in that forlorn way, he too making his way back inside.

All that was left was the hope.


	7. The Raccoon and The Fossil

Steve fiddled with an empty sketchpad. At least that way his old drawings couldn’t haunt him. It had been two days since the five went off to fight Thanos, and in that time, Steve and Rocket had been spending their hours in the common room, having few conversations but finding comfort in having someone else in the room. And at that, someone who understood their pain well.

Steve glanced to Rocket, who was currently humming and tinkering with a spare part of some device, something that had been scrapped. He sat in an armchair, or rather, on the arm of the armchair, with the device placed on a table. They may have sat across the room from each other, but it still allowed for a chat here and there.

“When you get them back, what will you do next?” he asked, wondering what the raccoon and his crew would do in space. Rocket had explained they had done a few missions that caused them to accidentally save the galaxy.

“Aw, I dunno, con some people?” Rocket smiled, in that smarmy way. “We’ll make money, we’ll tell Groot off for ignoring us. We’ll have fun.”

“Is exploring the galaxy enjoyable?”

“Yeah, it is. It’s good, exciting. What about you? What’s next?”

“I’m thinking of giving up the fight. I have a life to live.”

Rocket spluttered. “You don’t seem like the kinda guy to give up. What’re you gonna do? Live the quiet life?”

“Yeah. It’s what I need.”

Rocket shook his head. “Just when I thought you were getting interesting.”

Steve rolled his eyes, chuckling lightly. “For once, I wanna be boring.” He finally decided on what to draw and put pencil to paper, glancing to Rocket every so often. “How did you meet them all?”

Rocket sighed and placed his tools down, glaring at Steve. “You really like asking that question, don’t ya?”

Steve smiled, an answer enough.

“Okay, fine.” He turned back to the part and continued to tinker again. “It’s a long fucking story. And it starts off with all of us fighting. Except Drax and Mantis, they weren’t there yet.” Rocket explained in the vaguest ways, as going into too much detail would have made the story last an hour, what with them all having different agendas at first and trying to kill one another. And when he finally made it to how they met Mantis, he kept half the detail out because that would have taken all damn day to explain. “…So, yeah. We’re all close, been through a lot.”

Steve lightly smiled. “Sounds like you’re a real good family.”

Rocket huffed out a laugh, wiping his eyes, brushing away tears. “Yeah. I miss ‘em.”

“Good we’re getting them back then.”

“Yeah.” Rocket turned to Steve, the spare part in his lap, half destroyed. “How did ya meet the ones you lost?”

Steve sighed, continuing to shade his sketch. “Well… I met Bucky in 1924.”

Rocket’s hands stilled, staring up at Steve, waiting for the joke. When Steve just stared back, Rocket laughed. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Tell ya story.” He waved dismissively, as if he couldn’t care less.

“I was being beat up by some bullies, and he chased them away. I was convinced I had them, so I got angry at him for helping.” A small smile spread across his face. “We became fast friends from there.”

“Where did it all go wrong?”

“In a war. I thought I lost him down a ravine and I plummeted a plane into ice. I woke up seventy years later. Bucky had been captured and brainwashed, used as an assassin for seventy years.”

Rocket, not believing his ears, looked to Steve. “I was expecting a breakup or something, not a horror show.”

Steve shrugged. “You’ve told worse stories.”

“They weren’t horror shows.” He shook his head, disbelieving as he turned back to his tinkering. “What about the others?”

“I met Sam on a morning run, I teased him until we became friends. I met Wanda when she was the enemy rather than a friend, that’s a long story, it involves a killer robot though. I met T’Challa when he was trying to kill Bucky.”

Rocket glanced to him. “Rewind to the part where you tell me why the fuck one of your friends was trying to kill ya boyfriend.”

“Well, Bucky was framed for a bombing which killed T’Challa’s father. We became friends when the truth came out.”

“Misjudged revenge. Nice.” He sent a smile Steve’s way. “You can tell me about the killer robot tomorrow.”

And that was the end of their friendly conversation of the day. The two became absorbed in their activities, with Rocket ending up with a small thruster, somehow, and Steve ended up with a finished sketch. He tore the drawing out of the sketchbook and made his way over to Rocket, handing it to him.

Rocket stared at it for a second before taking it from Steve. It had Rocket with his arms around Groot, both smiling, like a reunion. Rocket had been drawn perfectly, and while Groot wasn’t at the same accuracy as he was, it was enough. “Wow… Uh. Thanks?”

Steve smiled. “No problem.”

As Steve made his way out, ready for a good dinner and a lie down, Rocket hugged the drawing to his chest, tears shining in his eyes. It was a wonderful sight to see. The power of art was Steve’s favourite. It could move people. Let them remember. Keep them together even. A drawing was an interpreted picture, not a perfect capture of real life, but a reflection, an idea. A way to keep people wondering. At that moment, it was keeping a raccoon happy.

\--

“So, ya boyfriend’s gun, what was it?” Rocket asked from his side of the room, tinkering with some other spare part. It had been another couple of days, and Rocket _really_ needed to ask that pressing question.

“Something he built up with Shuri,” Steve said without looking up, his sketch was far more important. “Something old and new.”

Rocket narrowed his eyes. “Did he borrow something? Is that why he wore blue?”

Steve let out a strange and almost foreign laugh. It had more joy than it was allowed to have, but also had a hint of sadness. “That was good.”

“Were you planning to marry?”

Steve smiled. “When this is over, I’m proposing.”

Rocket threw a piece of paper at Steve. Their conversations were getting more and more frequent, to the point where Steve would call them friends. “What are you planning?”

“I’ll propose with the help of Etienne.”

“Etienne?”

“A goat.”

Rocket shook his head. “I change my mind, you’re insane-ly interesting.”

“It’ll matter to him,” Steve said, almost getting lost in his imaginings.

“Is that how it works?”

“That’s exactly how it works.”

Rocket seemed to take a second, letting that sink in. “Okay… Tell me about this plan.”

Steve went on to explain the plan, and when he hadn’t given enough detail, Rocket made him by throwing another piece of paper at him. They were an unlikely pair, so unlikely that they’d been convinced this whole ‘keep each other company, aka alive’ thing was pointless, but here they were, with Rocket throwing things at Steve, getting him to explain how he was gonna propose to Bucky. Steve guessed this was just one of those implausible things that happened sometimes.

When the evening came into full bloom, and after a lot more conversations, Shuri came into the room, smiling. Rocket and Steve didn’t notice her at first, too absorbed in their activities. (Steve was drawing Rocket again, because it was amusing every time his tinkering caused a spark. And Rocket was busy trying to make an old Wakandan processor into a gun, for some reason).

“Hey! Fossil, Raccoon, I’ve got news,” she said, gaining their attention. Steve had never heard her call him a ‘fossil’ before, he supposed Nat had something to do with that.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“They succeed. They got the stones.”

Steve and Rocket glanced at each other before straight up cheering. They bounced out of their seats, almost roaring with joy. Shuri laughed along, in a small way. Though, she was surprised when Steve and Rocket rushed over, pulling her into a group hug of sorts. (Rocket sat on Steve’s shoulder so he could join in with the hug). The room radiated with happiness, because everyone was gonna come back. People thought to be gone would be alive again.

When the barely in shape ship landed, the lot of them stood tall, waiting for their friends, allies, to stagger out. Shuri had doctors on standby because, apparently, Tony couldn’t keep himself out of trouble and had a lovely reopened gash in his stomach.

The rest were in a fairly decent condition, if not a bit dishevelled. It was only Tony who had managed to get himself injured, the rest only had cuts, grazes and bruises. So, as the doctors came up to Tony, getting him on a stretcher to check how bad his wound was (that hadn’t been bandaged well), they carted him away, even though he was trying to convince them it was nothing. Rhodey followed, knowing fine well that Tony was bleeding a little more excessively than earlier.

Once that commotion had passed, they noticed Thor holding the infinity gauntlet close to his chest. The thing was definitely damaged, all burnt out, but the stones were still as gleaming as ever. Oh, and a purple bloody forearm was still inside.

Nebula side-eyed Thor. “He won’t let it go,” she explained to everyone.

“As the only god here, I will remove Thanos’s hand when the time fits.”

Steve stuck out his hand, knowing he had a slight advantage here. “Come on, Thor.”

Thor stared at Steve, trying to go for his best glare, but, he relented. Stepping closer, he passed over the gauntlet. Taking the thing into his hands, Steve pulled the fleshy purple arm out and threw it over to Rocket, who barely caught it (and was almost taken out by it). Nevertheless, Rocket never looked happier to hold a rotting arm.

Steve passed the gauntlet to Nebula, shrugging. “You seem to know the most.”

Nebula smugly smiled and looked to Shuri. “Can we go to your lab?”

“Of course.”

Inside the lab, Shuri, Nebula and Bruce all stood around the gauntlet. They were having an in-depth conversation about how to extract the soul stone and what do to with it once they did that. Or, better yet, if they should just use the gauntlet as it was.

At the side-lines, Nat lay down on a table getting some shut eye, while Thor and Steve were standing by a wall, vaguely listening to the knowledgeable people talk. Rocket was at the other side of the room – where he had put up some plastic lining – so he could mess with the arm. Shuri had given permission, on the condition that Rocket didn’t make the arm into a gun.

“Thor… what is that?” Really, Steve didn’t know how he missed it – maybe it had been the arm – but Thor had a snake around his belt.

“I like snakes,” he said, simply.

The snake was green with black and gold scales mixed in.

“Thor…”

“It’s him, okay? He’s just waiting for the right time.”

Steve placed a hand at Thor’s shoulder. “Maybe Loki is waiting for you two to have privacy.” He gestured to the door. “Turn left on the way out. Two doors down, on the right, there’s an empty store room. It’s never used.”

Thor nodded. “Thank you.”

Steve turned his attention to Shuri, Nebula and Bruce, who had all dissolved into a half-hearted argument about what to do. Nebula was convinced they just needed to use the gauntlet, but Bruce didn’t like the idea of using the weapon that wiped out half the universe. Shuri, on the other hand, was trying to keep the peace by saying she needed to do research.

“What happens once we bring them back?” Steve asked.

Nebula turned to him, eyes somewhat downcast. “They will return to where they disappeared.”

Steve folded his arms, thinking. “So, there are people who will return and die.”

Shuri furrowed her brow before realising the meaning. “People will fall from the sky, or drown in the ocean…”

Bruce nodded along. “People will die in space.”

“We need to send word out,” Rocket said, his hands were stained with purple blood. “I can do the best I can for people in space.”

Nebula walked up to Rocket. “I’ll help you.”

“We’ll have to set up a plan,” Steve said.

Just as the lot of them were beginning to lay out a plan, a scream boomed down the corridor. A few of them jumped into fight stances, including Nat as she woke from the sheer noise. But Steve just smiled. He could hear joy within it. This day was getting better and better.

“I think Loki is alive,” he said.

Bruce broke out in as grin. “That’s good. He’s not as bad as he was.”

The doors to the lab opened.

“Okay, okay. I never died, I escaped with– Oh god, please not them.”

Thor had his arm around Loki (in a headlock), who grew more horrified as he noted each Avenger present. He was near scared out of his wits.

Steve stepped towards him. “I’ve heard you’re not that bad anymore. I trust in that.”

“Does that mean you’re all _not_ going to beat me up?”

“Yes,” the room replied.

“Thank you.”

Loki quickly explained to Thor that he escaped with Valkyrie, Korg and Miek and a few Asgardians. He had dropped them off at the first habitable planet, only to leave to go find Thor. Now, he had no idea if they had been dusted or not.

So, with the help of Loki and Thor and everyone else, they set out a plan. Rocket took the lead on how to inform space, while Shuri had a perfect idea on how to inform Earth. They came to realise that giving people two weeks was enough without riling up the more desperate people who just wanted their loved ones back. And Thor decided that his new axe could promptly teleport him around to inform others.

But first, a day after the five came back, Earth would be informed. Shuri set up a camera that would broadcast onto every screen the world had. As long as it could be hacked, it would be hacked by this beautiful technological camera and no one would escape seeing the message of immense importance.

Nat stood in front of a camera, sighing. She smoothed down her clothes, almost like she was nervous. “Why does it have to be me?”

“I don’t do conferences without the press,” Tony said.

“I can’t do it. The public thinks I’m a fascist war criminal,” Steve said.

“Cameras don’t show my good side,” Loki said.

“I’m the last person the world wants to see,” Bruce said.

“You’re more experienced,” Shuri said.

“No one knows me,” Nebula said.

“I’m a talking raccoon and this is Earth,” Rocket said.

“People won’t recognise me without the hair,” Thor said.

“I ain’t doing it,” Rhodey said.

Nat rolled her eyes. “Turn the camera on.”

With a press of a button, Shuri’s brilliant technology took over the entire worlds screens. Which was entirely and totally possible now, great. Steve really didn’t want to know the process behind that.

Nat took a deep breath. The camera was on, the world was watching. “Three weeks ago, half of our world turned to ash. The Avengers and others tried to stop it, yet, we failed. Now, we have killed the Titan who snapped half the universe away. And, we have a way to fix it. The problem is, the people we lost will reappear in the same place they disappeared. That includes people who were in the air, the water, in places they would die if they returned. So, if you have information and/or know anyone like this, please find a way to rescue them. We’ll give you two weeks to prepare. Email progress to savethepeople@wakanda.com. This message will be available on social media websites under the name: We Will Save The Ones We Lost. Thank you for listening.”

Shuri shut the camera off. Nat turned away from it, looking to everyone in the room. Steve clapped, shooting a reassuring smile. At that, the rest of them began clapping and grinned because things were going to get better. Half the universe would be brought back, in two weeks. Only two. It was a joyous occasion.

As Rocket took to contacting the people he could on a device he had, Thor and Loki went off to inform the planets they knew. And at that, everyone else went to rest for a bit. Meanwhile, Earth and many other planets began preparations to welcome back the people who had turned to dust. Billions of people knowing their loved ones were going to come back swiftly turned to trillions. And as Thor and Loki returned to Wakanda, the planets they informed went on to communicate with others. By the time four days had passed, the universe knew what was happening.

Everyone chilled in the common room, keeping each other company as some worked through information. Tony and Nat mulled over emails and statistics from the day the snap happened. While Rhodey, Steve and Rocket scrolled through social media, trying to keep up with opinions and the morale of the people. Shuri, Nebula and Bruce spent their time in the lab, working on what to do with the soul stone, while Thor and Loki hung in the common room, taking a good break after everything they had been through in the recent months.

At some point, everyone took a break, stretching over the couches or straight up lying on the carpeted floors. Some napped, others just lay there, wondering what the hell was really happening anymore. Nat, however, stayed at the screens, deciding to video call with Clint, to catch up or whatever.

“I have a question,” Clint said.

“Shoot,” Nat said.

“Why am I the only Avenger trying to help on the outside? Why are you hiding in Wakanda?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because half of our people disappeared here, Clint,” Nat said. “And just because you struck a deal, doesn’t mean the rest of us are off the hook. Besides, Wakanda is the best place to be for us. Trust me.”

Clint sighed. “Fine. I trust you. Just… try to get yourselves outta that criminal mess once the world comes back.”

She flicked him a smile. “Will do.”

“How is the timetable looking?”

“Bad. Individuals know how to save their friends from drowning... No one knows how to save people who were in helicopters or airplanes.”

“Jeez. We’re doing all we can here. There’s even a superhero running around American cities. Captain Marvel I think her name is.”

Nat thinned her lips, thinking. “Fury mentioned her once… Well, at least you’ve got help.”

Clint glared. Even though the others in the room weren’t talking, he glared at them too. “No thanks to you lot.”

Steve stood from his seat and made his way over to Nat. “We’re sorry we can’t be there, Clint. How are you?”

“Decent, thanks for asking.” He glared again.

“We’d come help, but Nat’s right. We have to stay here, and Tony has to go back to Titan soon.” Clint was about to say something towards that when Steve continued, “they fought Thanos there. The rest of us have to be here when everyone returns.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Come on, Clint. We’re going to get everyone back. No one has to deal with these petty arguments.”

Clint glanced away, maybe looking towards something. “You’re right. Wanna chat?”

And that’s how everyone got into a heated debate on who was actually the _best_ hero. When Rhodey looked to Steve, he put his hands up and said he wasn’t the best because he was a soldier, not a hero. Tony tried to argue he was the best because his suits were cool, but everyone shut him down fairly quickly. (Couldn’t big up his ego). Nat tried to push for Clint being the best, because his aiming was ridiculous and almost impossible. For some reason, Loki went into a two-minute passionate rant about how good Clint was, but disagreed with him being the best hero.

Thor ended up talking about how only mortals could be heroes because they lived short enough lives to gain that title, going as far to say that the best hero was Rocket, due to his empathy. To which Rocket promptly laughed, telling Thor he was wrong. Which was when Thor went on to describe what Groot did for him and Rocket told a tale or two about Groot’s heroics… Soon, the group came to believe Groot was actually the best hero of them all.

Once Clint had to go, the group chilled in the common room, sleeping. No one could be bothered to go to their rooms and relax, nor did they want to be alone. Shuri had sent them a message at one point saying they knew what to do about the soul stone. So, their brief celebrating had them all fast asleep.

It was almost nice, to have everyone there, without so much as an argument. While Nat had been nervous about Steve and Tony at first, it seemed they had made up without saying the words. Maybe that was to do with Steve’s attempted suicide. Whatever it was, the peacefulness of not being at each other’s throats was great.

By the time the next afternoon came along, Tony worked something out as he collected all the statistics together. Everyone was still in the common room, enjoying the sociability of it. Being alone was still not allowed. Thor and Loki were fixing up some snacks, for some reason, while Steve and Rocket were doing their usual activities. Nat and Rhodey were reading the same book, glancing to each other when a plot line got weird. It was a perfect environment, until Tony decided to ruin the good mood.

“We can’t save everyone…” he said, absentmindedly, hardly realising he had said it aloud.

“We know,” Nat said.

“13,423 airplanes lost people. It’s a similar number for boats. We don’t know how many helicopters were in the sky. We know nothing about divers,” Tony continued.  

“Jesus Christ,” Rhodey murmured. “Social media told us that people aren’t prepared. Most people are posting jokes to keep the morale up.”

“We just gotta hope they sort something out,” Steve said, glancing up from his sketch of everyone in the room. “Maybe some can be saved.”

“Either way, you’re losing a good chunk of ya people,” Rocket said, almost like he was sympathetic towards it. Perhaps he could guess how many would come back just to die across the universe.

“Yeah…” the room echoed, haunted.

\--

Shuri stood in a darkened room, hands on her hips, head bowed. Around her were over two hundred faces on holographic screens. All were bunched up, with a small label at the bottom, detailing what country it was. For Shuri, the Queen of Wakanda, was in contact with every single leader from every single country. Simply, she was waiting for what they all thought, now that the two weeks were over. They would never build up enough resources to save everyone. Maybe it was time.

“The soul stone is ready to be used, yes,” Shuri confirmed, as a few countries had asked.

“Do it,” the president of the US announced, gaining a few argumentative murmurs.

“We should take a vote. People are still carrying out plans,” the president of France said.

After a moment, Shuri nodded. “Absolutely. All in favour, press the green button on screen, all in disagreement, press the red button.” It was something Shuri quickly programmed into the app she had them all connected to. It allowed for statistics to be measured the second they clicked the button.

The last two weeks had been gruelling as ways to rescue people in the air, or at sea, or wherever else was hard to set out. But everyone was getting desperate now. Social media was exploding with hate over the delay. Some people would die when they came back, that was merely a reality now.

The leaders of each and every country had voted, and, well, it went in favour of bringing back the people _now_. The justification of all this was, people had died in plane crashes when the snap happened and so on. It was a lost cause to try and rescue everyone, unfortunately. Some would be saved. Others wouldn’t.

Shuri lifted her chin. “Then its settled. At 1200 hours Universal Time Coordinated, on the 12th of May, the people will be brought back.”

The call ended and Shuri let out a breath, shaking her head. Okoye, who had been at the side-lines, came up to her and smiled.

“You did well,” she said.

And everyone agreed with her, as they poured into the room (haven’t listened in to what Shuri had been saying). They swamped her, telling her that she was brilliant and all that. And then Rocket went off to inform people, and Thor and Loki went off again. They had two days to try inform the universe. It would be enough time, surely.

Even if they didn’t manage to tell everyone the news, things would be alright in the end. People were gonna come back. It would be fine.

And they were gonna come back due to Nebula. Because, in the end, Shuri and Bruce realised using the gauntlet was the easiest and best way to do it. So, it was decided that Nebula and Tony and had to go back to Titan. Tony had to get Peter and _the wizard_ back, while also bringing the Guardians back to Rocket. And according to Nebula, the star Titan orbited was definitely hot enough to either destroy or hide the stones from anybody else.

So, as everyone stood by the barely in shape ship, they were getting ready to give their goodbyes. Tony gave everyone a massive hug, just because. He was ready to say goodbye this time. Nebula was already aboard, gauntlet secured, not bothering with everyone, but did give a small wave to them all.

As the ship took off, the lot of them looked between each other. It had been two months since the snap happened, and, they were finally going to get everyone back. A dream, that’s what it was like. At the beginning, this point was impossible, but here they were anyway.

They were all beaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, feel free to come chat with me on my [tumblr!](http://kateis-cakeis.tumblr.com/)


	8. Orange Hell

11:55 UTC. Actually 14:55 in Wakanda. Steve was by the tainted grass, still with flicks of ash in it. Rocket wasn’t too far away, leaning on a log. Nat was by the clearing where Wanda had disappeared. Okoye, Shuri and Nakia were where T’Challa had blown away in the wind. Rhodey was by the patch of grass where a pile of dust was, instead of a friend. Families and friends littered the side-lines of the battlefield, all ready.

The minutes counted down until…

3.

2.

1.

Time.

An orange glow befell every area a person had disappeared from, and as if by beautiful magic, people were standing _right_ there. All around the world, 3.8 billion people reappeared to god knows what.

But for Steve, sitting on the grass, Bucky reappeared a foot away from him, standing stock still. His eyes were darting around as he adjusted. He glanced to Steve, his entire being relaxing immediately.

“Oh thank god,” he whispered as Steve clambered to his feet.

“Buck…”

Bucky pulled Steve into a hug, very nearly crying. Steve had no idea what had happened on his end, but he understood the need to cry. They held on tight, arms wrapped around each other in a vice, their faces buried in the comforting warmth of hair.

“Thought I lost you,” Steve whispered.

“Thought I was stuck in Orange Hell forever,” Bucky said, a small laugh behind his words.

“Talk about it later?”

“Mhm.”

It wasn’t simple for them, at all. It wouldn’t be for anyone. On one side, people had lost. On another, they had been trapped. And there was still the case of how many were actually dead. Escaping an ‘orange hell’ just to die didn’t sound particularly fun to Steve. It was horrific actually.

But Steve had Bucky and that was enough, for the moment. Empathy could kick in later.

“Missed you,” Steve said.

“Missed you more.”

Oh, no, that just wouldn’t do. Steve attacked Bucky’s armpit, in a skilful stealth tickle. Bucky burst out laughing, clinging onto Steve, despite that leading to more tickling. But – gladly – Steve stopped. They were still hugging at the end, which truly showed the power of a tickle.

“For some reason I love you,” Bucky said.

“Blame my odour.”

Bucky withdrew from the hug, laughing. “It’s a good smell.”

Steve laughed also. “Science was on our side for that one.”

“Definitely.”

The two walked hand in hand, into the nearest clearing. As they walked, Bucky glanced to Steve’s arm, noticing something that wasn’t there before. Nevertheless, they met up with the others. Wanda’s eyes were red raw, coming back wasn’t the best time for everybody. Sam came up to Steve, who pulled him into a quick hug. And T’Challa had his arms around Nakia, while Shuri and Okoye smiled at him. It was a moment before Rocket and Groot came into the clearing. Rocket was on Groot’s shoulder.

“I am Groot,” he whispered the Rocket.

“Yeah, everyone is gonna be okay, Groot,” Rocket replied.

Shuri glanced around them all. “We won’t fit in the common room anymore,” she said, frowning.

“Then we’ll go to the party hall instead,” T’Challa said.

Steve was beginning to think T’Challa liked parties more than he cared to admit. Considering this ‘party hall’ was really just a hall which occasionally had lights on for a more party atmosphere. Nevertheless, the majority of them found themselves in this room half an hour later. And due to T’Challa’s constant begging, Shuri put on his favourite music (which most hated). Okoye and Nakia dragged some blankets, cushions and pillows in, covering the hard floor with them.

All of a sudden, everyone was sitting on the ground, laughing and chatting in their circles, trying to relax on this momentous day. Bucky had described the place he’d been trapped in as an ‘orange hell’, Steve guessed they all just wanted to forget for a second. Relish in the comfortable blankets, in the somewhat decent music. To just be.

At one point in the evening, way after Nakia and Ramonda had ran off to go get drinks, T’Challa stood, wine in hand. He was perhaps a bit tipsy, judging by his slight swaying and Shuri trying to pull him back down, only to fail.

“We coined the soul stone pocket dimension as Orange Hell because we were trapped and the shallow water wasn’t water. It couldn’t be drunk. If you rolled in it, you would still be dry. We were all represented by our inner selves, which means some of us were nothing like we are now.” T’Challa pointed to Groot. “He was a massive tree, not a teenager. Bucky had short hair, _short hair_.” Okay, so maybe T’Challa was a lot drunk but nobody was trying to stop him from talking. They were captivated, in fact. “My soul is old, apparently, because I had grey hair. Sam had blonde hair. There was a couple who were both children. And–” He broke down laughing. “And that teenager, Spiderman, was stuck in his original suit.” T’Challa’s expression suddenly hardened. “We easily forgot who we all were, the soul stone was like that. But we stuck together, kept ourselves together. Orange Hell was awful, here’s to being free!”

He raised his glass and those who had dusted away two months ago also raised their glasses, cheering. (Except Wanda, she wasn’t there. She was with Nat in a room somewhere). Shuri dragged T’Challa back down and laughed with him about being an old soul. Nakia also found this absolutely hilarious, Okoye was already making jokes.

“By the way,” Sam began, “I was also in my old prototype suit. I think my soul was a representation of me and Riley.”

Bucky chuckled and nudged Sam with his foot. “I still believe you think you were soulmates or something.”

Sam blushed, a lot. A little flustered. “Guess I got shit to work out.”

“Or a label to find.”

Rhodey furrowed his brow. “Are you suggesting Sam was in love with Riley?”

“ _Guys_ ,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Leave Sam be.”

Sam – who was blushing to high heaven – mouthed a thank you to Steve, as Bucky and Rhodey shut their mouths.

“Orange Hell has made me miss my short hair,” Bucky said, changing the subject.

Steve smiled. “Really?”

“I like it long _and_ short. Because of course I would.”

“It’s good either way.” Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky, nuzzling his nose into his hair. “Maybe better long.”

Bucky laughed, leaning into the touch. “Mm, I agree.”

“Please, save it for the bedroom,” Rhodey said, causing the lot of them to burst out laughing.

Even with this Orange Hell and the likely terrible things that very name suggested, the ones who came back were in good spirits. So much so, that they had plenty a smile on. Laughed a lot. And the ones who had been left behind, they had their grief wiped away. There was a lot of joy.

Steve and Bucky walked calmly to their quarters, once the party was over. (Or after T’Challa fell asleep and Nakia dragged him away). Once they made it back, the quarters felt like a home again instead of a dark place haunted by memories. It was finally the perfect place again. Steve was excited to no longer see it as a hollow hole in his heart.

Although, any happiness withdrew in a flash when Bucky froze by the door. Staring at Steve’s arms, _like he knew_. But how could he? There was no sign. Steve’s skin had healed completely, except for the slight discolouration. It was barely noticeable, the way his skin was slightly darker. Steve himself could only _just_ make it out.

“I see the marks, you know? The faded lines on either arm,” Bucky said, and there it was. He had noticed. He pulled Steve to him, wrapping his arms around him. “What did you do, Stevie…?” God, his tone was broken.

“You were gone, Sam was gone. Wanda, T’Challa.” He shivered. “It was too much, the shock of it. I’m sorry.”

“You’re better now?”

“Believe it or not but Rocket really helped.”

Bucky laughed. “He wants to steal my arm.”

“I know.”

“Don’t let him. I happen to really like this arm.”

“I know.” Steve smiled. “Everything is alright now.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Bucky pulled back, grasping Steve’s shoulders. “Promise me… promise me you won’t try to– Just don’t try ever again, okay?”

“Okay. I promise.”

\--

Steve tapped a pencil against a sketchbook that was leaning against his knees. It was an awkward way to draw, but Steve didn’t want to leave the bed yet. It was far too early, and Bucky was still asleep. There was no good reason to move. Besides, maybe he would go back to sleep. After all, a quick glance at the clock was enough to convince him to stay right where he was. 02:56. Maybe it was late instead.

Of course, the brief peacefulness of the night couldn’t last as Bucky bolted up, sucking in breaths. Steve looked to him, watched as he calmed himself down, placing a hand at his chest. Breathing seemed to work. Bucky glanced to Steve, a small bit of panic in his eyes. He relaxed, though, lying back against the headboard.

“Nightmare?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded to the sketchbook. “Been up awhile?”

“Couldn’t sleep after a nightmare.”

“What was it?”

“I died… in a bathtub.”

“Jesus… Steve…”

“I’m fine.” Steve was convinced he was. Drawing was helping, and he _was_ drawing. No matter what was disturbing him, making him panic, sending him into low moods, it would pass. His mind was just playing tricks on him. “What about you?”

Bucky shrugged. “An amalgamation of torture and Orange Hell.”

Steve winced at the way Bucky’s tone was playful. There was no way either of them were fine on that wonderful morning. They would always have the past to haunt them at night, when they lacked control over what imaginings the brain could conjure up. They would get better during the day, when their brain was less like to create realistic shitshows.

“We’re messed up,” Steve said, flipping his sketchbook closed.

“That’s why therapy is just another activity for us.”

“True.”

When they did both get back to sleep, after a little bit of silently staring at the ceiling while cuddling, morning came at them before they knew what to do. The day was going to be a strange one. In all likelihood, Tony would return with the Guardians, Spiderman and a wizard. Which also meant that it was highly likely that Rocket would leave almost immediately. Also, they all had to catch up on how the rest of the world was doing, while deciding where everyone else was going to go.

For now, at least, Bucky was letting Steve make pancakes under the condition that if he messed up, he would never ever make them again. Which was probably for the best, because the first one ended up on the floor. Bucky stared at him with a ‘I told you so’ look as Steve managed to get quite a few pancakes done without them ending up wrecked.

“How do we avoid getting my arm stolen?” Bucky asked as he finished up his pancakes.

“Keep an eye on Rocket at all times?”

“Can’t be too hard.”

And it wasn’t, because Rocket was severely distracted as a different, more intact ship landed in Wakanda. (Okoye was starting to get slightly annoyed that all these people were coming in and out yet there was still no Starbucks). Nevertheless, as six people jumped out, Rocket and Groot walked up to three.

“You guys realise the universe wanted me and not your asses, right?” Rocket said, pointing to the four.

“50/50 chance, Rocket. Give us a break,” Quill said, folding his arms as Rocket eyed him.

Rocket spread out his arms. “Hug?”

“Hugging is the true power of masculinity,” Drax said.

“I am _Groot_ ,” Groot murmured, mocking.

Mantis giggled and began pulling each one of them into a hug. They were a family, one full of bickering, jokes and confusion over what any of them were really saying. Especially when it came to Drax and Mantis. Anyone could recognise that when it came down to it. But, even with the joy of having each other back, they still had to grieve Gamora.

As the Guardians talked, the lot of them had their attention on the remaining three. Tony was quarrelling with the wizard, as it appeared, while Spiderman stood awkwardly, half smiling at the rest of them. Nat approached them, raising an eyebrow. She was about to say something when Tony put his hand up and turned to them all.

“Everyone, this is Stephen Strange. Strange, this is everyone.”

Strange rolled his eyes. “Look, as nice as it is to meet you all, I have to go.” Everyone watched in awe as an orange circle popped into existence. On the other side was clearly New York. Strange walked through it and both he and the circle were gone.

“What an asshole,” Tony murmured.

Shuri turned to T’Challa, grinning. “That was a _portal_.” She darted over to Steve and Bucky. “Bucky, it was a portal! Nothing is science fiction anymore.”

Bucky grinned at her as she rushed off back to T’Challa. “That kid is gonna invent vibranium portals now.”

“Nothing can stop her, that’s for sure,” Steve replied before approaching Tony. “You had us all think you liked the wizard.”

Tony glared at him, yet, before he could talk, Nat chuckled loudly.

“Oh my god… He _likes_ the wizard,” she said.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?” He looked to Steve and Sam. “What does she mean by that?”

Sam shook his head, smiling. “Oh, Stark…”

“I’m confused…” Bruce whispered.

“Me too. Rhodes… _Rhodey_. What do they _mean_?” Tony asked, pretty much pleading. Even though, for the brain he had, he surely must have known what Nat had insinuated, what Sam had realised and what had Steve and Bucky smirking.

Rhodey shrugged, smiling also. “I can’t help you, Tony. You know what they’re saying.”

Tony looked to Spiderman, his last hope. “Peter, help me.”

“I can’t Mr Stark.” Peter smiled, nervously. “I’m going to… go talk to… someone else.” He scampered away, only to be caught by Shuri who started asking questions based off what Tony had said about Peter’s abilities. T’Challa caught Steve and Bucky’s eye, pointing to Shuri, raising his eyebrows as he conveyed his message. Steve and Bucky both shrugged, they were far more interested in Tony right now.

“Okay,” Tony said. “I’m just…” His suit suddenly appeared out of nowhere and before anyone could try to wrangle him back, off he went, flying to anywhere but right there.

“Coward,” Nat said, laughing. “I can’t believe he fancies a wizard.”

Sam shrugged. “Stranger things have definitely happened. Like, all the damn time.”

The group murmured agreements. But, of course, before they could so much as move or start a different conversation or marvel about how wonderful it was that everyone was back, a rainbow light struck by them. Thor and Loki suddenly stood before them.

“We thought we’d come back to say goodbye,” Thor said. “The planet Loki took the last few Asgardians to is a good one. We will be staying there for the foreseeable.”

“I see you’re straight to business then,” Nat said.

“Ay!” Rocket shouted, coming up to Thor. “We should fix Nidavellir one day.”

“I’m sure we could find a way, Rabbit.”

Rocket nodded to Loki. “Glad you got your brother back?”

“Yes.”

Loki leant towards Thor, whispering to him. Thor’s eyebrows crinkled as he looked to Loki like he’d grown two heads. Loki stared back, blankly.

“He is a rabbit.”

“He’s a raccoon.”

Rocket shook his head. “I’m really a puppet.”

“Don’t play with the pirate-angel, Rocket!” Drax called.

“Ah,” Thor sounded. “I am sorry, Sweet Raccoon.”

“ _Please_ , call me Rocket. Jeez.”

Thor agreed with this notion, as if it wasn’t actually Rocket’s name and was a nickname instead. Nevertheless, Rocket would surely never be called ‘Sweet Rabbit’ again. Thor went on to say goodbye to the others, while Loki stood in the background, avoiding all the people that could easily beat him up again if they so desired. He really wasn’t going to risk it. Tony also came back in the nick of time to say goodbye, for however long it would be. It was likely to be two years before they’d all see each other again, at least, that was usually how it worked.

The Guardians argued over whether or not they should leave immediately. Quill wanted to stay once food was offered by T’Challa but Rocket desperately wanted to go. Apparently, he’d spent enough time on Earth as it was. Being back in space was where any of them needed to be. So, as the Guardians piled back into their ship, Rocket made his way over to Steve.

He was smiling broadly, like they had really become friends somehow. He nudged Steve, handing a device to him. Something simple. “Contact me sometime. I can get you and ya boyfriend a crazy honeymoon in space.”

Steve laughed. “I think Earth’ll do just fine.” He held out his hand, which Rocket shook. “Thanks, Rocket.”

Rocket smirked at Bucky. “I really wanted that arm.”

“And you were never getting it,” Bucky retorted.

“You’ve got a funny one there, Rogers.”

Steve slung his arm over Bucky’s shoulders. “Don’t I know it.”

Rocket smiled before rushing back to his ship – his home – ready to blast right off into space, where they all belonged.

“Well,” Tony said, clapping his hands together, “I think it’s time I got Peter home.”

Peter, who had been conversing with Shuri about scientific memes, groaned. “Already, Mr Stark? Aunt May will keep me in the house forever when I get back.”

“Not my problem, kid.”

T’Challa offered up some transport and with a few more goodbyes, not only were Tony and Peter leaving, Bruce and Rhodey were too. Back to the Avengers Facility for those two. Which only left, Nat, Sam and Wanda. They were the only ones who, really, had nowhere to go. Because Steve and Bucky weren’t going anywhere, as Shuri had Steve convinced now, this was his home too.

As another day passed by, those remaining in Wakanda were all in the common room. Wanda was silent in the corner, not saying a word. Bucky had told Steve that even in Orange Hell she had been silent. The rest of them were in a circle of sorts, more of a square. If Steve was really staying (and he was), then Nat and Sam had to make a decision.

“We’ve gotten almost all highly powered weapons off the market. And we’ve taken down more HYDRA stragglers than the new SHIELD ever did,” Sam argued, more to Nat than anyone else. “Isn’t it time we stopped?”

“Yeah… Clint said we should try to get out of this mess.”

“Would be nice not to be criminals,” Steve said. As great as Wakanda was, knowing that going outside for anything other than dangerous missions was likely to get himself incarcerated in the damn Raft was not his favourite thing.

“If that’s possible,” Bucky said.

“They’ll never let me be free,” Wanda murmured from her corner.

Out of nowhere, Shuri came into the room, turning one of the screens on. “They might,” she said, clicking onto a livestream in which Secretary Ross was giving a statement.

“ _It is my belief that we are all here today because enhanced individuals didn’t give up the fight. In principle, this includes cleaning up our streets and rescuing people in the first days after the dusting. It includes the fight in Wakanda, and the fight which brought our people back. Knowing this and knowing I myself would not be here without them, the UN is in agreement to revoke the Sokovia Accords. People like the Avengers and vigilantes that are peaceful, should be able to operate without the world inhibiting them. Of course, some of the rules will still be in place. Supervision will be required for groups such as the Avengers and biometric data will be kept for records and safety. Truly, if not for the work of these people, many more would be dead. Half our population wouldn’t be with us today_.”

Ross went on to accept questions. No longer caring for what he had to say, Shuri switched it off and turned to the lot of them, beaming.

“I think this means you have a good chance at not being criminals.”

Steve smiled. “Thank god.”

As it turned out, Shuri was contacted by the UN, telling her personally that the charges against Steve, Nat, Sam and Wanda had been dropped. Even Clint and Scott were completely in the clear. They were free again. When Shuri asked about Bucky, the UN passed it off as an American problem. If they wanted Bucky to have a chance at being as free as the rest of them, he’d have to go through a trial, according to good ol’ America.

“It’s outrageous!” Steve shouted at a screen, in the same room Shuri spent time in when contacting the leaders of each and every country.

This time however, there were only three screens. The Secretary of State, Secretary of Homeland Security and the Attorney General.

“I think you’ll find, Rogers, that it’s completely reasonable since your supposed friend has countless murders against his name,” Ross said.

“And I think _you’ll_ find that he was brainwashed by HYDRA and controlled for seventy years.”

The Attorney General shook his head. “He still must answer for his crimes.”

“Yes. It’s clear he did it. There are enough leaked files that it’s almost public knowledge. The Winter Soldier would be best suited to the Raft.” Ross said.

Steve planted his hands on his hips. “It wasn’t him. The assassin you want to prosecute is a ghost. The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist. Bucky Barnes does exist, and he does not deserve to be mistreated by the country that drafted him into the war that did this to him.” He looked to the screens, eyes hardened, the darkness inside clearly showing. “He was a prisoner of war for seventy years. _Seven decades_.” Steve blew out a breath, almost sounding like a laugh. “You make it sound like he won’t get a trial.”

Ross folded his arms. “He’s a guilty as sin.”

“For being forced into doing things he didn’t know he was doing?!” Steve shook his head. “I suppose this is America now? Remember, HYDRA grew on your turf.”

The Secretary of Homeland Security clenched her jaw. “America has done nothing wrong in this respect. Who’s to say your friend didn’t do it all willingly? American lives are at stake if we get this wrong.”

“I’ve seen what it’s done to him. He didn’t remember me, once. The guy I’d known my whole goddamn life didn’t even know me. His mind was wiped by a machine… He had triggers in his brain to activate that… soldier. He’s getting therapy to try and fix all the mental health problems he’s got now. HYDRA did that to him, _American_ citizens did that to him. And you’re trying to push the argument that he _wanted_ all that? He isn’t a threat to America, at all. In fact, I’m more a threat to America than he’d ever be.” Steve stared them down.

“Is that a threat, Rogers?” Ross asked, eyes set in a steely way. But Steve could see a new fear within them. Like the idea that the man who was once Captain America could actually harm America was entirely possible.

“No. It’s the truth.”

“What do you want us to do? Simply clear him of charges?” the Attorney General asked.

“Yeah. Can’t be too hard.”

“He is a criminal.”

“He’s a _victim_.”

The three suddenly put their mics on mute and disappeared from the cameras on their side. Perhaps they were off to discuss all this, reorganising their strategy maybe. Or they could have been talking about Steve’s request and how they could avoid having a trial for Bucky.

“You believe there are mitigating circumstances here?” another voice boomed from a forth screen.

Steve stared for a second before realising who it was. The president. “Yes.”

“Do you think that makes him innocent?”

“Yes.”

“Has James Barnes been involved in any other battles since 2016?”

“Yes, the battle in Wakanda.”

“I had a look at Barnes’s wartime activities. It seems he did things that were not by the book.”

Steve rolled his shoulders, like he was gearing up for a fight. “We all did. Your point, Madam President?”

“Is it not well within reason that Barnes could have been in control?”

“No. No, it is not.”

“Do you trust him, Captain Rogers?”

“With my entire life.”

The president nodded before her screen disappeared. Steve was left for ten minutes, just standing there, waiting, before anything happened. The Attorney General reappeared, looking more than wary. He glanced off screen, shaking his head. Maybe he disagreed with whatever he was about to say, but someone was forcing him either way.

“The president agrees with you, Rogers. James Barnes will not have to stand trial,” he said.

Steve found himself smiling, sighing in relief. “He’s as free as the rest of us?”

“He is.”

“Good.”

Steve promptly ended the call and left the room, scrubbing his face. He’d been in there for well over an hour, trying to get them to listen, only for the president to seemingly overwrite them all. He thought it would have been harder, but, perhaps it wasn’t over yet. For now, he could at least tell Bucky he wasn’t going to be arrested if he stepped foot outside of Wakanda.

When he made it to the common room, everyone stilled, staring at Steve. Bucky waited with bated breath, waiting to find out if he’d ever be able to leave Wakanda or if a trial was the next best thing.

“You’ve been cleared,” Steve uttered, causing the room to erupt in cheers. Bucky rushed up to Steve, pulling him into a hug. Finally, things were going their way.

With that, and after a good night’s rest, Nat, Wanda and Sam promptly headed back to the Avengers Facility. Sam was staying there for awhile before he’d move back to DC, to his old job. He’d surely done enough and if he was ever needed, he’d be there. Nat and Wanda, on the other hand, were going to be at the facility for the foreseeable. Maybe they’d become Avengers again, as if the last two years hadn’t happened.

When the late afternoon crept in, hours after their friends had left, Steve and Bucky made their way down into the village. (With Bucky still wearing the vibranium arm). Steve hadn’t visited since he saw all the urns, and he was hoping for things to be better now. Hopefully, there would be no more heartbreak. Maybe things would be fixed as easily as they were broken.

When they got there, Bucky was immediately surrounded by kids. The ones that had been left behind hugged him tightly, like they were convinced they’d never see the White Wolf again. Except, at one point, it really had felt like that for everyone who was left behind, that they would never see their loved ones again. Meanwhile, the five that had been in Orange Hell with Bucky seemed to be more comfortable than ever.

People had found each other in Orange Hell, bonded with one another. In ways the people left behind would never understand. That’s why the five were more familiar with Bucky, they had come to know him better.

“White Wolf, you look strange with long hair,” Palesa said, looking up at him while twisting her mouth as she imagined.

“Cut it!” Bahjat shouted.

This sparked a chorus of ‘cut it’. The kids were loud as they repeated it over and over.

“I think they’re gonna cut it in my sleep,” he whispered to Steve.

“Nah, they won’t. Besides, they’ll come back around to it.”

The kids were eventually told to be quiet as they were guided away by their parents. It was getting late after all. The kids were hyper off their tiredness. This allowed for Steve and Bucky to get settled in the hut. It had been a while, for the both of them. But the hut was exactly the same, never touched since that awful day that felt totally irrelevant now.

And so, they sat in the hut, wrapped in each other’s arms. They were both alive, somehow. It was like a damn miracle. It was like they were trapped in a cycle, really. One moment, one was surely dead, then it was the other way around, only for it to be okay in the end. Alive and halfway safe.

“You’re staying?” Bucky asked. He knew the answer but now was definitely time to make sure. He wouldn’t make Steve stay if he didn’t want to, and Steve was well aware of that.

“I was coming home before all this. Now I’m home.”

Steve leant his head on Bucky’s shoulder smiling brightly as his eyes became increasingly heavy. Bucky inched as close as he could to Steve, pressing kisses into his hair. And as the hours of peacefulness ticked on, the two lay down and drifted off into sleep. It was finally how it should have been months upon months ago.

They awoke to something quite alarming, though. When they emerged from their hut, Shuri was there, with a grim expression on. Steve was sent into a whole world of panic in an instant. Everything ranging from ‘oh god, what now?’ to ‘is Wakanda all okay?’. Bucky looked to be equally panicked as he strode up to Shuri, tilting his head in question.

She pushed a tablet towards him, pointing to a headline. Shuri had been monitoring the news closely, keeping an eye on the number dead from the return. She was also keeping up to date on what governments were saying and checking the public opinion. However, from the expression that lay upon Bucky’s face, this wasn’t to be expected at all.

Steve came up to Bucky, looking over his shoulder. He couldn’t possibly think of what was going on. What he did know, however, was that Bucky was frozen in place. As Steve glimpsed the headline and the detailed first paragraph, something came crashing down around him with a violent force. A request no longer relevant, for the world would guess now.

And the article had plenty to say.

*

_‘ **Leaked Government Letter: Could Steve Rogers be in love with James ‘Bucky’ Barnes?**_

_It has been a topic for debate since LGBT+ rights took off. The unusually close friendship between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes has captured many, LGBT people and homophobes alike. The arguments are always the same, a friendship of their kind was highly unusual in the 1930s and ’40s. Sources over the years have told us plenty. They lived together, they never had long lasting girlfriends and they were often seen on the then gay scene. Not to mention what they got up to during the war, sharing a tent far too frequently for one._

_However, a letter has now been leaked from the government. Some already speculate it was deliberately leaked to calm tensions over the revoked Sokovia Accords. The letter highlights three specific notes that are making people believe Rogers is in love with his best friend._

_These notes include Rogers being asked if he trusts Barnes. His reply: ‘With my entire life’. Rogers defended Barnes to such an extent that he ensured he himself is more of a threat to America than Barnes is. Lastly, it is insinuated that Barnes remembers Rogers fully now, reinforcing the theory that it was Rogers who brought Barnes back to himself. Not to mention that the letter clearly highlights that Rogers was desperate in his assurance that Barnes is innocent due to the mitigating circumstances of HYDRA brainwashing and controlling him._

_To me, it isn’t clear if this is a close friendship or a romantic relationship. On the other hand, Rogers only went AWOL once Barnes was back on the scene. Due to the fact that the public still knows little about what happened in 2016, there is nothing to say Rogers didn’t risk it all for his old friend._

_If that isn’t a special type of love, I don’t know what is.’_

*

“I… know this website. It’s for gay news,” Steve whispered. He looked to Shuri, he was far too shocked to process this. Bucky still wasn’t moving. “That means we’re fine, right?”

“Steve… this is one of the few articles that paint this in a good light. Others are vile or concentrate on how you’re too compromised to be trusted. The comments are worse. Most call for the trial to go ahead.” She glanced to the ground, digging her shoes into the dirt.

Bucky passed the tablet back to Shuri as his hands began to shake. “How could they tell from _that_?”

“Journalists are there to do research and know their topics inside out. Clearly this…” Shuri scrolled up to the name, “Melissa Aloysius Cadwallader Dugan knows what they’re talking about.”

Steve covered his mouth, turning away. “Of course it would be a descendent of a Howlie.”

Bucky let out a laugh, somehow the tension lifted slightly. “Goddamn Howlies were some of the sources, I bet.”

“What should we do?” Steve asked Shuri.

“Do nothing. No one can– Oh no.” Shuri tapped the tablet a couple times and a video started playing. This had all happened overnight for them, things were bound to have gotten out of control quickly, especially on this sort of topic.

The star of the video? Goddamn Tony Stark.

_A few mics were pushed as close to Tony’s mouth as possible. He had sunglasses on, despite the cloudy weather. This wasn’t planned, but Tony had stopped to talk anyhow._

_“Do you know anything about Captain America’s sexuality?”_

_Tony straightened up. “Rogers is in a vulnerable position at the moment, just like the rest of us. Go home to your people, the ones you thought you lost. Take a damn break.”_

_He pushed past them, diving into a car._

_“Do you know anything about Rogers’s relationship with Barnes?”_  
“Is Cap gay?”  
“What do you know?”

The video cut off.

“It could be worse,” Steve said, brushing his hand through his hair.

“We’ll be swarmed by journalists if we ever go back to America,” Bucky said. His eyebrows were trapped in a furrow, unable to move as he thought about the situation.

“I suppose, you could control the situation from here,” Shuri whispered. “It’s not the greatest idea but… if you had a phone interview with Melissa, then, maybe, you can get the truth out in a controlled way.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not like we have to worry too much about the press, since we’ve retired. We won’t be out there often.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, turning towards the fields. “The fandom will go wild, I’m sure.” He walked away, to find a distraction with his goats.

“Fuck this,” Steve murmured, following after Bucky.

Shuri stared at them, holding the tablet close to her chest. “Shit…”

\--

Steve lay back on a couch, staring at the ceiling. Two days had slipped by and things around the world were almost back to normal. People were returning to their jobs; the streets were almost completely cleaned up and it was like nothing had ever happened. That was, if you ignored the bits of crashed airplane that still lay in suburbs or half destroyed buildings. One day, maybe soon, there would be no evidence of anything happening at all.

For Steve, things were about to get strange. He and Bucky had an interview with Melissa Dugan in the late afternoon, only a few hours away. The two had agreed with Shuri that the only way to vaguely control anything that was going on was to have an interview with someone they could find trust in. Melissa had agreed that a video call interview was perfect and that only the audio would be used in the article. She also ensured them she wouldn’t twist anything as she feared her grandfather would haunt her if she did so. From the onset, she told them she was gay and ensured them that if they were too, this was a good way to come out.

Bucky appeared next the couch, sinking by it and burying his face into Steve’s chest. He’d definitely been worried about if this was the best thing to do, considering they had _fans_. But Shuri had assured him that there was always fanfic for everything and that he didn’t have to worry about it. At least this way, they could put out their story to squash the rumours that were smearing their names even more so than usual.

Steve absentmindedly began messing with Bucky’s hair. “It’ll be fine. Melissa seems to be a good journalist.”

“Must be in the Dugan genes to be nosy.”

“Yeah… Must be.”

Bucky sighed. “Coming out to the world is gonna be strange.”

“At least we’ll not be there to see it.”

“Well, the homophobes can’t say anything we haven’t already heard.”

Steve stared blankly at Bucky. “It’ll actually be directed at us this time.”

“And we’ve heard it all before.”

When the time came, they went into the room with the screens and settled on a couch they had dragged in. As they prepared and Shuri gave them the thumbs up from her side, a holographic screen popped up with Melissa looking so eerily similar to her grandfather as she smiled. Steve and Bucky exchanged a look, preparing themselves mentally to do what they thought they’d never do.

*

_‘ **They’re Coming Out So You Better Get This Party Started**_

_I think you already know from the headline what I’m about to tell you. The infamous Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, and his old friend James ‘Bucky’ Barnes are both very much not straight. This may come as a surprise to most, but for those who have seen the signs for years now, your gaydar is on point._

_I’ll let the audio and transcript do the talking for you (WARNING. The murders of gay people are mentioned):_

_Melissa Dugan: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, it’s nice to see you looking so healthy._

_Steve Rogers: And it’s nice to see you smile like your grandfather._

_MD: I do?_

_Bucky Barnes: Yes._

_MD: That means a lot. Anyhow, I’m flattered you agreed to an interview._

_SR: We’re really here to find out what Dum Dum said about us._

_MD: [laughs] He said a lot while saying nothing at all. It was mostly code._

_SR: Dugan was like that._

_MD: So, I’m sure people are eager to hear the truth of this matter. Are you close friends or is there more to it?_

_BB: We’ve been together for a little over a year now._

_MD: [squeals] That was unprofessional of me, but my grandad would be so happy._

_SR: It’s fine. We know a lot of people will be shocked, but this is far from new for us. It was 1934 when we first realised our feelings. We split up for our own safety in 1940._

_MD: My grandad once told me you were together in the war._

_SR: [laughs] We weren’t exactly. It was an old comfort._

_BB: [grins] The Howling Commandos were an observant and nosy lot. Two months after we formed the group, they had noticed._

_MD: Really? My granddad never said anything about that._

_SR: You already said he spoke in code about this. The Howlies learnt to keep things close to their chest, including our relationship._

_BB: It surprised us. Their acceptance. When they had no reason not to tell the Colonel everything._

_MD: I suppose they believed in your love. What was it that made you decide to do this interview? To come out like this?_

_[they share a look]_

_BB: People were getting confused and the rumours were quickly getting out of control. We wanted to share our story before people took things out of context._

_MD: That sounds daunting. Did you want to come out at all?_

_BB: I never wanted the public to know._

_SR: We found out there was fanfiction about us that twisted who we are. It’s why we wanted to keep it to ourselves._

_MD: Oh… Well, I suppose that was always bound to happen. This is the internet._

_SR: Yeah._

_MD: Do either of you identify with a label? I’m aware that the words of today didn’t exist in the same ways in the ’30s and ’40s._

_SR: I’m bisexual._

_BB: [shrugs] I’m not big on a label. Maybe ‘cause I still don’t really know._

_MD: What was it like, to be together in the ’30s?_

_BB: In the ’30s, being together was hard. We mainly spent our time in safe spaces. Underground bars and behind the locked door of an apartment. When we spent time in those bars, in the late ’30s, we met four people who we became good friends with and loved dearly. A year in… (Barnes cuts himself off and wipes his eyes)._

_MD: You don’t have to speak about it._

_SR: It’s… In 1939 two of our friends were murdered by police for being queer. Dale Wilson and Edmund Morgan. Bucky and I where there when it happened and… we ran as far as we could. Dale and Edmund were secretive, careful people, the fear from the attack made us avoid going to the bars after that._

_BB: In 1940 another one of our friends were murdered by a group of men. Eileen Little. We witnessed the entire thing… When we broke the news to her girlfriend, it tore a rift in our lives. We stopped being together to avoid being murdered on the street._

_MD: Oh, god. I’m so sorry that happened to you both. How did you manage?_

_SR: We kept up our covers and stuck to being strictly platonic. Bucky always had a girl on his arm and I would try my best. Girls tended not to go for a smaller guy, so no one ever suspected a damn thing._

_BB: That’s not entirely true. The girls were jealous because I paid more attention to Steve, it nearly blew my cover multiple times._

_SR: You never proposed to any of them, that’s why._

_MD: People moved fast back then, didn’t they?_

_BB: [laughs] If you weren’t married after seeing a girl for six months, people tended to think you were wasting the poor girl’s time and ruining her virtue._

_SR: Yeah, you ruined plenty of girls’ virtues._

_BB: [Barnes swats Rogers on the arm] I did not!_

_MD: Have I just caused a domestic?_

_BB: Please don’t give the public anymore ideas._

_MD: I’m not. However, if you don’t mind me asking, did your relationship with Peggy Carter, Steve, cause any unrest between you both?_

_SR: Uh. Yes._

_BB: [grimaces] We had many arguments about it all._

_SR: I’d rather not talk about it._

_MD: That’s okay. I have one last question. How did you realise your feelings towards each other?_

_[they both laugh]_

_BB: It was the summer of ’34 and I was at Steve’s house. It was so hot I had to take my shirt off to keep cool._

_SR: That was the year Bucky got a job down at the docks and… his chest was chiselled. Not as much as it is now [laughs] but enough for my sixteen-year-old brain to short-circuit._

_BB: Once I noticed Steve staring, I got a lil’ nervous. I persuaded him to take his own shirt off, otherwise he was gonna get ill from the heat and… I don’t know, something finally clicked in my brain._

_SR: Bucky strode up to me and cupped my face. It was a strange moment between that and when we kissed._

_BB: We eventually talked about it and decided how to be together while staying safe._

_SR: It soon became clear we’d been in love for a long time. I was eleven when I began to wonder what kissing Bucky would be like._

_MD: Okay, wow._

_BB: Is it that shocking?_

_MD: I’m amazed, really. You’re both iconic historical figures and you’re not straight. It doesn’t have to be a debate like it is with other figures. Knowing you’re together has made me giddy and happy. This is what it means to people when celebrities come out. It makes people believe things can be okay, that there are plenty of others like them everywhere._

_SR: Never thought of that before._

_MD: You’ll make a lot of young people feel happier in themselves. Trust me on that._

_So, it’s all out in the open now everyone. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are in what appears to be a very happy relationship._

*

It was late when Steve and Bucky had their eyes glued to their tablet. On it was the latest video they’d found where the press – who just wouldn’t go home to their families – were hounding people. Mainly ‘expert’ historians about whether Steve and Bucky’s announcement of their relationship was really true or not. For this particular one, the interviewer was getting increasingly angry as the historian tried to debunk the truth.

_A man, who was wearing a suit, stood in front of the Captain America exhibit in the Smithsonian. “Well, of course, it is very clear either Steve Rogers is lying for publicity or lying to himself. There has never been evidence of anything in the past, otherwise people would have come forward and said Captain America was bi. Rogers is known for being able to get any woman he wants. Peggy Carter would have married him if not for Rogers freezing himself in ice. It’s obvious to me that it is unlikely that Rogers is bisexual.”_

_“But the interview surely proves it? He sounds fond when he talks about Bucky and vice versa,” the interviewer argued._

_“Rogers also worked for SHIELD and would know how to craft a story and act it well. This is a way to change the stories so Rogers is painted in a better light. Just last week he was still a war criminal.”_

_“Coming out is no easy thing. I think it’s like Barnes said, rumours were getting out of control and they wanted to share their story.”_

_“To me, the timing is off. If he had said this years ago, I might have believed it.”_

_“I don’t think you would. You sound like a homophobe, not an expert.”_

The video continued from there but turned into the interviewer grilling the historian for a good fifteen minutes. Steve and Bucky switched it off, sighing.

“What now?” Bucky asked. America had stewed for a good six hours with the article Melissa had published.

Steve turned to Bucky, smiling mischievously. “I say we prove the homophobes wrong.”

And so, after the two took a picture of them kissing, Steve made a twitter account while mumbling how this was bullshit. Bucky lay back on the couch and laughed lightly as he listened to Steve repeatedly swear under his breath.

After a few minutes an account by the name ‘Rogers <3 Barnes @CaptainxSergeant’ had been created. The first and only post consisted of the picture with the caption, ‘The real deal’. Once he worked out how to do it, Steve sent the tweet to a few twitters he found that were excessively freaking out over the article.

In what was simply a few minutes, the tweet went from having no likes to a hundred. From no retweets to fifty. With each passing minute the tweet climbed and climbed in its numbers. Steve quickly found how to mute the notifications and the two, gladly, sat in silence as they watched the numbers increase. Within half an hour, the tweet had likes in the thousands. Hundred thousands.

The tablet rang out, a video call from Shuri’s secret app. When he answered, Steve realised he’d made a mistake as Nat, Sam and Wanda were in frame, sitting on a couch. He could clearly see Peter in the background as well, tapping away at his phone, sitting on a stool.

“You two are causing a storm over here!” Nat shouted.

“Are we?” Steve smirked, knowing fine well.

“Yes!” Peter exclaimed, holding up his phone. No one could see though, he was too far away. “That tweet you posted is in seven articles and it’s barely been an hour!”

Nat titled her head to the side, analysing the two. “You’re not stopping with this coming out thing, are you?”

Bucky shrugged. “People were saying it was fake. Neither of us could let that slide.”

“Homophobes are getting angrier that their old American propaganda pieces aren’t straight. While LGBT kids are feeling overjoyed that a superhero has come out,” Sam said, grinning.

“Any chance I’ll make aspiring assassins feel overjoyed?” Bucky asked, pushing his luck.

Nat glared at him. “Barnes… shut the fuck up.”

“It’s a joke…” he whispered before his expression hardened. “I hope all this will make historians grow some balls and realise that if a historical person shows any signs of being not straight, they’re probably gay as fuck. For example, if a person goes on a date with a different person of the opposite gender each week but never does more than dancing and a goodnight kiss, they’re probably not into the opposite gender.”

There was a pause of silence, until Wanda and Peter clapped a couple times, smiling bright.

“Well said, Bucky, well said,” Wanda remarked.

Peter beamed from the background. “I guess you two _are_ living proof that history is gay.”

Bucky slung his arm around Steve. “That _is_ true.”

“Wait,” Steve said, coming to a realisation. “How many of us aren’t straight?”

Sam glanced around him and settled more into the couch. “Well, I dunno about a label but I ain’t straight.”

“I go for whatever,” Nat said, shrugging.

Wanda frowned slightly. “I think I’m pan? I don’t know.”

“I’m bi… and trans,” Peter said.

Everyone looked to Peter. He jerked back for a second before he realised everyone was smiling at him. He found himself smiling at that.

“Guess it’s a good thing none of you noticed, huh?” he said.

“Dude, we’re proud of you,” Sam said, followed up by the rest nodding and saying similar things.

“Nice! I’ve gotta tell Ned about this.” Peter hopped off his stool, pressing his phone to his ear as he walked out of the room. “Ned, guess what!”

“Well,” Bucky said, gaining everyone’s attention. “Looks like superheroes are pretty LGBT.”

“Oh god…” Nat whispered as she glanced at her phone. Everyone looked to her with raised eyebrows. “Rhodey and Tony were only supposed to get Starbucks.” She let out a sigh as she turned the phone to the camera, at an angle that Sam and Wanda could also see.

It was another video. Although, this time, Tony was 100% angrier.

_Rhodey took a bunch of cups off Tony as he violently came to a stop, in a sea of reporters. Tony looked ready to swipe his sunglasses of his face and stare at them all until the cowed away. He didn’t do that, instead, he clenched his jaw._

_“Come on, hit me with your best question,” Tony said._

_“Are any of the Avengers gay?”_

_“First of all, you keep saying gay, yet… I haven’t seen anyone come out as gay in the last two days. Secondly, even if I knew, which I don’t, it’s for them to say not me. Thirdly, don’t you have families? People? Stop doing your jobs for one second.”_

_A few reporters huffed and puffed at that. Tony went to move away, to escape the mass of vultures (Rhodey was already through the crowd), but he was stopped by a mic._

_“Are you straight?”_

_Tony stilled, completely, like someone had finally shut off his brain for a moment. He slowly turned to the mic that was all up in his face and sighed._

_“It’s none of your goddamn business.”_

_Tony pushed through the crowd, making it to Rhodey’s side._

_“Is that a yes?!”_

_Ignoring that, they both ducked into a car and drove off before the reporters could get to them._

“Holy shit. That was…” Sam began, struggling to find words to fit the video.

“Brutal. It was brutal,” Wanda supplied.

“Guys! Have you seen the video, with Tony?!” Peter shouted, skidding back into the room.

“Yes,” the room replied.

“It’s insane!”

Nat sighed and placed her phone down. “I can’t believe he said that. It just…”

“Proves he’s not straight?” Steve said.

“Yeah.”

Peter returned to sitting on the stool. “I suppose, on the bright side, Hollywood can’t push the rhetoric that superheroes are better off straight. Case in point.” He spread his arm across them all and smiled towards the camera.

At that moment, Rhodey appeared in the room, setting the Starbucks on a table. He sighed and glanced over everyone in the room. They looked to him, their very expressions already telling him they knew.

“You’ve seen it?” he asked anyhow.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Tony’s… not doing too good. He’s with Pepper now.”

“Oh, I can see why,” Peter said, staring at his phone. “There’s a hashtag full of people saying Tony’s looking for attention.”

“Damn,” Sam uttered.

Nat turned to the laptop which was hosting the video call. “Steve, Bucky, I think it’s best we go.”

“You go. Give Tony a hug for us,” Steve said.

“Will do.”

The call cut off, leaving Steve and Bucky slightly bewildered. Everything had happened too suddenly in the last few days. It was a whirlwind. It had only been six days since half the world came back, and already, reporters and journalists weren’t stopping to find any scrap of news they could. That leaked government letter had suddenly distracted everyone from the real issue of the plan for restoration the president was supposed to publish. Captain America and Bucky Barnes coming out, coupled with Tony’s sudden statement had created the perfect storm.

But the truth was out, allowing Steve and Bucky in particular to carve their own history. Maybe one day the museums wouldn’t get half their past wrong and would realise, for example, that Steve saving Bucky wasn’t an ironic twist of fate, it was direct action.

Really, it all didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Steve had more pressing matters on his mind, an agreement long forgotten.


	9. A Long Awaited Event

Another week had passed by like time didn’t even matter anymore. The fallout after the whole coming out business had calmed. Things for Steve and Bucky were much better than they were for Tony, who was practically forced by the internet to make a statement. All he said was that he didn’t know what his sexuality was, which didn’t do much to calm things on his side.

While Bucky was busy farming on a particular Saturday, Steve went into the city to talk to T’Challa. He hadn’t specified why he wanted to speak with him, but from T’Challa’s cryptic replies, Steve guessed he already knew. This had been a long time coming now, ever since T’Challa had first laid out his plans a year ago.

Steve popped into a small room with only a desk in it, quickly realising it used to be a disused store room. T’Challa sat behind the desk, a whole lot of papers lay upon it. He gestured to the seat on the other side, to which Steve sat, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve been busy.”

T’Challa picked up a piece of paper, showing it to Steve. “It’s taken a year to get this all sorted without you and Bucky knowing.”

Steve smiled, keeping a certain fact to himself. “I haven’t even proposed yet.”

“I said it before the battle, I’ll say it now, you’re getting married regardless.”

“I know.” Steve let out a small laugh as he looked down the bullet points, already knowing more than half the information. Though, it was detailed information and not just the scraps Steve and Bucky had dealt with. “Why a Thursday?”

T’Challa beamed at Steve. “In Wakandan culture, a wedding on a Thursday represents a joining after a long journey.”

“That’s… It suits.”

“I thought so. When are you planning to propose?”

Steve smiled as he said, “tomorrow.”

“Sooner rather than later is a good strategy.” T’Challa smiled.

“Which Thursday were you thinking of?”

“I believe you have waited long enough for this. I thought May 31st.”

“Sounds wonderful...”

T’Challa’s smile seemed to be powered with vibranium with how bright it was. “You can’t believe this is going to happen, can you?”

A little laugh escaped Steve’s lips. “No? After everything, definitely not. But it is.”

“Do you have a ring?”

“Even if I had, I presume you already have a selection, don’t you?”

T’Challa nodded and ducked under the desk, bringing out a stand with rings upon it, like a typical jeweller. Except, this was a disused store cupboard masquerading as an office. There were five rings. A silver band encrusted with black sapphires. A plain silver band. A black ring encrusted with white sapphires. A plain gold band. And a black ring with a ruby on top.

“You really went with this…” Steve murmured, taking time to look at each and every one. “They’re nice.”

“I tried to get a varied selection. You know Bucky better than the rest of us, which would he fall in love with?”

“I don’t know… I think he’d like something plain but… that silver ring with the black stones… It’s him all over.”

“Hm.” T’Challa thumbed his Kimoyo beads. “Shuri can you come to that disused store room we talked about?”

“What _now_?”

“Steve needs help.”

“Oh… I’ll be right there.”

Steve eyed T’Challa. Shuri had changed her tone very quickly. He was well aware that Shuri had tried to calm T’Challa’s slight obsession, obviously to no avail. He’d likely talked her ear off about it instead of getting him to stop. Now, Steve guessed Shuri knew what was gonna happen next. If he was with T’Challa in this disused store room, the plan was finally in motion.

“Shuri knows about this?” Steve asked, as if he was ignorant to what had been going on the entire time.

“Yes. She has a good eye for these things.”

When Shuri arrived, she closed the door with a sigh. Steve looked to her, raising his eyebrows. Silent communication of ‘ _welp, this is happening’._ To which Shuri smirked and stepped closer to the desk. ‘ _I warned you’._

“T’Challa, you have _duties_ ,” Shuri said, shaking her head at her – frankly – impossible brother.

He flicked a smile as he got up from his seat. He nodded to Steve. “Shuri is right. I have matters to attend to. Good luck.”

Steve smiled as T’Challa manoeuvred around the small space to get out of the room. Shuri shrugged and sat in his chair. She cast an eye over the rings and stayed staring at one for a good second.

“Silver ring with black sapphires, no question.”

“Really?”

“We both know Bucky. He loves something elegant and dark.”

Steve pursed his lips. Shuri wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, like the arm.”

“Like the arm,” she repeated. “And like you.”

Steve gaped at her. Some would dispute his thinking but as he saw it, he wasn’t dark.

“We’ve all seen the videos of you flipping and twirling like a dancer. Elegant. You, the past year. Dark.”

Ah, now he got it. “That’s fair.” Steve took the ring into his hands and slotted it into a ring box that lay atop the stand. “Thanks, Shuri, you’re a good help.”

She smiled. “What are friends for?”

Steve pocketed the box, sighing a little too loudly. “Do you think we’re ready for this?”

Shuri tilted her head, knowing what to do. She picked up a piece of paper, handing it to Steve. Upon it was a letter from the kids in the outlining village. Steve could tell due to the scribble, the names at the bottom and the odd English word amongst the Xhosa.

‘ _Dear Shuri,_

 _Bucky is a gleaming power in the village. He keeps us entertained and teaches us how to get goats to like us. But when Steve is here he loves life even more. He is happier and Steve is happier too. When he comes to the village, he is tired. When Bucky hugs him, the tiredness goes away. They love each other and we love them. Make them stay forever, make them happier with the wedding plan_.’

Steve laughed. “How do they know of the plan?”

“T’Challa told them. They make good question askers.”

“Oh jeez.” Steve handed the letter back, smiling brightly. “I think Buck is gonna be happy.”

Shuri grinned. “Especially since you’re not going anywhere.”

\--

Back in the hut, early in the morning, Steve was pottering around as Bucky made some breakfast. The day was finally there, after a year of what was pretty much peer pressure without the peer directly putting pressure on them. All in all, that day would surely tell all.

Once breakfast was done and gone, and Bucky attached the vibranium arm, he was about to head out, maybe have a swim, but Steve had other ideas. He slunk his arms around Bucky’s waist, placing his head on his shoulder. A comforting, loving move. Bucky let out a chuckle, humming with contentment as he pressed his head against Steve’s.

“Your beard tickles,” he murmured.

Steve let out a small laugh. “It’s getting a bit long.”

Bucky reached behind him, lighting tapping against the hair growing down from Steve’s chin. “Needs a trim.”

“You could cut it for me.”

“An offer too tempting to refuse.”

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple. “I love you.”

Bucky turned in the hold, cupping Steve’s face. “Love you too.” He kissed him, slow and tantalising, before stepping away, to dig through a basket.

Steve sat on the floor as Bucky picked out the scissors, looking a little too excited for this. Steve wondered how much of his beard he’d have by the end. Bucky sat opposite him, brushing his fingers through Steve’s beard, pinching it at the end, snipping a little bit away.

“What are you doing today?” Bucky asked, stopping to let Steve speak.

“I fancy befriending Etienne.”

Bucky laughed, snipping a bit more. “Oh really?”

“Really.”

“I think I’ll milk the goats today. See if Jiya will let me.”

“‘Course she’ll let you. The goats stand still for you.”

Bucky grinned. “I don’t know if it’s out of fear or love.”

“Probably both.” Steve stayed still as Bucky kept trimming. “The one arm scoop still terrifies them.”

“It’s an effective method.”

“I know.” Steve winked, causing Bucky to laugh once again, nearly cutting Steve in the process.

Silence befell them until Bucky finished up trimming the longer parts of Steve’s beard, which gave Steve a vantage point. As Bucky put the scissors away, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, hiding his face in his hair. He sighed, happily, snuggling close as Bucky leant into the touch, the warmth.

“Tonight… We should go to the quarters.”

Bucky breathed out. “Yes.”

Steve grinned and got up, heading out to put his plan into action. He nodded to the kids, who smiled in sheer delight and began to group together. Heading into the fields, Steve quickly located Etienne, who baaed at him as he approached, anticipating the next set of events. Steve picked him up and coddled him as he jogged up to their stage. For the performance of a lifetime.

Meanwhile, fifteen minutes later, the kids came running into Bucky’s hut, large as life. As per usual, Ruzna lead the pack, with the rest of the kids behind him. Namely, Kande was standing proudly – the oldest of the lot of them – holding a piece of paper.

“A note from Steve,” Ruzna said, accepting the paper from Kande and handing it to Bucky.

“A what?” Bucky carefully took the piece of paper; the kids ran away instantly.

The note read:

_‘Etienne got stuck up a tree and Ruzna said to fetch you. I couldn’t leave Etienne alone, Sansone won’t stop trying to climb the tree.’_

“Goddammit, Rogers.” He jumped up and made his way out into the fields.

For a little while, he couldn’t tell where the hell Steve was, but as he ventured further away from the village, he could hear distant shouting in – almost – fluent Xhosa. As he followed that, he found Steve staring up at Etienne, who lay on a thick branch.

“No way did he climb that tree,” Bucky said as he stopped at Steve’s side. “Did you put him up there?” Not to mention, Sansone was nowhere to be seen.

Steve shrugged, but as he did so, Etienne jumped down from the tree and came up to Bucky, staring at him. Etienne looked just fine, not even fazed. Like he was used to this by now.

“Oh…” Steve murmured, all innocent. “Look at what’s attached to his neck.”

Bucky noticed a ribbon tied around Etienne, like a collar. As he undid the knot, he came to realise a little black box was hanging from it. He slid it off the ribbon and opened it, seeing the ring. Confused, Bucky glanced to Steve, who was on one knee.

“Oh my god…” Bucky whispered, not confused anymore.

“James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, you are the single best person I know. The line is far from its end, so, will you marry me?”

Bucky – stunned into silence – took the ring out of the box and handed it to Steve. “Yes. Yes!”

Steve smiled as he took Bucky’s right hand and slid the ring on. (A conversation many months ago brought the two to the conclusion that the ring was best suited to the right). Bucky grabbed his hand and pulled him up, kissing him sweetly before wrapping his arms around him. He chuckled, almost bewildered at what had just happened.

“That was romantic. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You asked and you received.”

Bucky pulled back and kissed Steve again. “We’re about to have the most colourful wedding for two guys from Brooklyn.”

“It will be the best ceremony in the world.”

“You’re biased.”

“I am.”

The two broke apart and began walking back to where all the goats were, they still had a day of farming ahead. Bucky twisted the ring around his finger, getting used to it. It was definitely his kind of thing, Steve had chosen well.

“You really put Etienne up a tree, huh?” he asked as he rounded the goats up for milking.

“We’ve been practising for weeks. Once we knew we were gonna get you all back, I started to train Etienne.”

“What was the technique?”

Steve dove into his pocket, pulling out a scrap of cloth. “This is yours. Ya goat really likes your smell.”

“Clever.”

\--

The date of May 31s was quickly spread across their contacts. With little going on in terms of world threatening activities, everyone was free and excited for the day. Except for Tony, he hadn’t got back to them on it. (Which was understandable). The two managed to get a call with Clint after they spent hours trying to call him, for no other reason than Clint being awkward.

“When is it?” Clint asked, grinning. From the start of the call, he was as happy as Steve had ever seen him.

“May 31st,” Steve and Bucky said at once, they’d been doing that a lot.

He thought on that for a second before his eyes widened. “But that’s tag day with my kids!”

“Tag day?” Bucky narrowed his eyes. It sounded pretty interesting.

“Yeah. We play a game of tag all day. I normally keep them from tagging me until late on.”

“That’s mean, Clint,” Steve said.

“It’s not! They never stop giggling.”

Bucky and Steve shared a glance and shrugged. Steve turned back to the screen, saying, “they can play at the wedding.”

“Awesome!”

With that sorted they had two more people to inform, to make it the best wedding of all. But it didn’t require a video call or a message, it needed a more personal approach. Meaning, a trip outside of Wakanda. It was the first time Bucky had left since he’d arrived there. And it was a special trip, this. He and Steve stood outside a house, deep in the suburbs, about to knock on the door, when it swung open. Two old lesbians stood _right_ there.

“Bucky…”

“Steve…”

Steve and Bucky nodded to them. “Rita, Dot,” they said at once.

A second of silence bounced between them, then, they pulled each other into one big hug. Big gleaming smiles overtook them. It had been seventy-five years seen they had last _seen_ each other, never mind talking in person.

“It’s– It’s so good to see you, oh my lord,” Rita murmured.

They all backed out of the hug, having to wipe happy tears from their eyes. Rita and Dot beckoned them in, getting them to sit in the living room. Immediately, Rita was off like a bullet to make coffee, while Dot sat in an armchair, settling in.

“You’re lucky we just had guests,” Rita said, coming into the room with two cups, handing them to Steve and Bucky. “Coffee had already been brewed then our guests up and left before they had some.”

“Lucky,” Steve said, as if he knew more.

“Why are you here?” Dot asked, as Rita returned with two more cups.

Bucky put out his right hand (he’d come with a cloth over his left arm, deliberately leaving his vibranium one at home). “We’re engaged.”

“About time!” Rita shouted. She was certainly loud and active for a ninety-nine-year-old.

Both her and Rita spent a long time leaning over, looking at the ring.

“It’s a beautiful thing,” Dot said, smiling. “Unconventional. Suits you perfectly.”

Rita sat back. “Hmm, I’m surprised Steve would pick something beautiful.”

“What are you saying?” Steve asked, his tone teasing.

“Nothing, my darling.”

Both he and Bucky rolled their eyes. Rita and Dot hadn’t stopped referring to them as if they were far younger on email, why would they stop in person? Though, they didn’t really mind. It was sweet to be seen that way.

Bucky turned to Steve, smiling. “So, I wanted to do this with an audience.” He dug into his pocket, pulling out the black ring encrusted with white sapphires. “I have an engagement ring and you don’t.”

Steve, with a bright smile, put out his right hand, allowing Bucky to slide the ring on. They matched now. Rita and Dot looked to them fondly, ‘aww-ing’ at them. It was a rather lovely moment for them both. And in front of old friends made it even better.

“God, you two _are_ perfect for each other,” Rita said, standing slowly and making her way over. “Oh, that ring is beautiful.”

“It matches well with Bucky’s,” Dot said as she still sat. “Both with silver and black, just the other way around.”

“When’s the wedding then? I presume you’re inviting us.”

“We are,” Steve said. “It’s May 31st.”

“It’s in Wakanda. Are you alright to travel?” Bucky asked.

“We’ll be fine, boys.” Dot waved dismissively. “We’re not old yet.”

That sparked the room into laughter and the four of them settled in for long conversations about whatever. They caught up, they kept it bright and they acted like they’d all known each other for the last seven decades. Old friends catching up, that’s what it was. All were old, just not in the same ways.

“Family is just friends now, isn’t it?” Bucky said, wringing his hands.

“Your siblings had children, Bucky,” Dot said. “Even though none are still around, you have nieces and nephews.”

Steve took Bucky’s hand into his own. He sniffled and shook his head. When he began getting his memories back, years ago, he’d searched for his family. The museum said he was the oldest of four, but when he went digging, he found they had all died. He knew of his nieces and nephews, and there were quite a few, but he didn’t want to come into their lives. Not while the children of his siblings would be older, middle-aged and onwards. And the grandchildren were even younger. No, it was much too late to ever walk into their lives.

“Don’t suppose you know how any of them feel about me?” Bucky asked.

“Uh…” Rita glanced to Dot, who nodded. “We’re in contact with all seven of your nieces and nephews…”

“How do they _feel_?”

Dot held onto her cup tightly. “None of them want to meet you… But I’m sure–”

“It’s okay, Dot. I understand.”

Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand. “We can change their minds.”

“No. I… It’s too much.”

And that’s how Rita and Dot changed the subject onto how brave Steve and Bucky had been, coming out to the world in the way they did. Apparently, they’d even retweeted their tweet, causing their whole family to like or retweet it. Their family were well trained when it came to Steve and Bucky after all.

“You both deserve all the happiness in the world,” Rita said.

“Not sure about that, Rita,” Bucky said, ducking his head. Steve did a similar action but didn’t say anything.

Dot scoffed and shifted in her chair. “You need to see that the universe did ya dirty. Be happier than anyone ever was.”

Steve raised his head and looked to their friends. Two people who had lived the years he and Bucky lost. “Thanks, Dot. Thanks, Rita.”

“No problem, boys,” they said, almost at the same time.

\--

Chaos was definitely one word to describe the last few days. T’Challa had become a monster of a wedding planner, even though he was a _king_. Shuri was swamped with trying to keep things in control as T’Challa went mad over the flower arrangements. Everyone was getting shipped in from various places, mainly New York. The Guardians had landed early that morning as Steve had invited Rocket (who also went on to exclaim that Gamora was alive, much to Steve’s delight that Rocket had his entire family back). Thor was expected to appear at any given moment. All the while Steve and Bucky hid in their quarters, trying to hide away from the mayhem outside.

Their wedding was tomorrow and there was no way to explain what the hell was happening. The engagement had been the best and most relaxing month of their lives, as Steve learnt the skills of farming while entertaining the children with late night stories. But, now, things were out of hand, to say the least. Hiding away was about the only thing they could do.

But hiding could only work for so long.

They were lying on the couch, blocking out the pinging of their tablet (they’d get to it eventually) when their door rattled with knocks. A few distinct, different, knocks. As if multiple people were hitting against the door at once.

“Rogers, Barnes, get your asses out here!” Nat shouted. “What about your stag night?”

“No!” they shouted. What was the point of a stag night if you couldn’t get drunk, but your friends could, ultimately ending with them all getting hangovers for the wedding?

“I will shoot this door open!” Rocket yelled. The sound of a weapon charging could be heard, followed up by murmuring and the immediate sound of metal being crushed. “Hey! That was my favourite gun!”

There was a sigh before Thor said, “I have Asgardian alcohol.”

Without so much as a second passing, Steve and Bucky launched up and rushed to the door, unlocking and opening it in an instant.

“Why didn’t you start off with that?” Steve said, grinning.

To put it simply, what was a night of much enjoyment, was also the night Steve and Bucky got drunk for the first time in a very long time. When I say drunk, however, I mean mildly. They didn’t drink too much, not wanting to land themselves with a hangover if the alcohol was that strong. Their friends, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any concerns for simply drinking whatever they had brought with them. Really, there had been too much vodka, Nat’s fault of course. But, in the true spirits, it was a party. Drunk dancing was the true highlight and the lot of them managed to find things to mess about with. (A sign to signal a wet floor ended up hanging from the ceiling somehow).

Sam, Bruce and Clint were the most sensible out of them all, only making it halfway to tipsy. But when Rocket lost his head with drink, the lot of them had to wrangle guns from him to prevent an accidental, drunk shooting (Thor and Wanda broke a couple more for good measure). Tony was the drunkest of them all, really falling back into a party reputation as he sloshed wine all over the place. (And yeah, he made it, even though he couldn’t look at Bucky for more than a second).

Peter, on the other hand, slept in the corner as soon as the noise and drink got too much. Rhodey and Pepper were keeping an eye on him since Tony was too drunk. T’Challa and Shuri were the ring leaders, supplying more wine than ever should have been allowed when so much vodka was being passed around by Nat.

Suffice it to say, Steve and Bucky were drunkenly laughing in the corner, wondering who was gonna have the worst morning of their lives.

And, oh, the morning. That hit them faster than ever. At some point in the evening – night – Steve and Bucky had ended up back in their quarters, safely in bed. When they woke, to bright light shining into their room, they sighed in relief. Today was the day and they weren’t hungover at all. The state of their friends would be a different matter entirely.

The two got up, ate some breakfast and strode up to their wardrobe, where their attire for the day was safely kept. White shirts. Pastel waistcoats with embroidery. Solidly coloured suits, with pastel orange cravats. Colour was paramount for a wedding in Wakanda. Steve and Bucky’s would be no different. As it was, Steve had a pastel and sky blue colour pallet, while Bucky’s was pastel and forest green.

Once dressed, they looked each other up and down. Even though the colours were quite adventurous, they matched well. Didn’t clash at all. (Even the vibranium arm looked incredibly good against the colours).

“T’Challa is better than we thought,” Bucky said, bursting out into laughter along with Steve. The mere thought that T’Challa may have just planned an awesome wedding had them in stitches.

As their laughter cleared up, Steve glanced to the clock in their room. Noticing the time was getting on a bit. He held out his hand, smiling. “We have a wedding to attend.”

Bucky placed his hand in Steve’s. “Yes, we do.”

They stepped out into the sunshine of Wakanda, heading down a garden of vibrance. At the end, in a clearing of grass, white benches – with flowers curled around them – were set up and were filled with guests. Friends, their family really, all there to watch. The rows set out an aisle and at the end, T’Challa stood proudly, beaming. He truly was invested and had planned it all to the finest detail.

Steve glanced to Bucky, who nodded to him. Taking this as a cue, a pianist off to the side started playing. Hand in hand, they walked down the aisle, the music ringing out around them. It added a magical air to the entire thing. Once they made it to the end, they faced each other, tall flowers standing beside them.

T’Challa rested his hands in front of him, straightening up for his part to play in all this. “We are all here this day to recognise the love between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. They have had a journey to last several lifetimes, but each decision has brought them here. I believe you have vows.”

Steve cleared his throat, feeling at a loss for words even though his vows were practised, personal. “Thick and thin doesn’t describe what we’ve been through to get here. But it has been, thick and thin. To know that I’m marrying you now, showing my love for you to everyone… it’s a damn miracle. Buck, I promise to love you, to cherish you, to be with you to the end of the line.”

Bucky smiled, squeezing Steve’s hands. “In traditional vows, I think we’ve been married for a long time. For better or worse? Been there. Richer or poorer? Been there. Sickness or health? Been there too many times. So, Stevie, I could say all that but what I really mean is, I love you and I’ll be there. To the end of the line.”

There were aww’s and sniffling as people looked on, joy behind their eyes. T’Challa nodded to Sam and Shuri, who bounced up from their seats. Sam stepped towards Steve and Shuri stepped towards Bucky, handing a ring to them. A silver band, perfect and simple. Quickly, their friends returned to their seats and all had smiles widening across their faces.

Steve took Bucky’s right hand and slid the ring on. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my devotion to you and a reminder that I will always come home to you, in the end.”

Bucky bit back elated tears, smiling happily as he took Steve’s hand, slowly sliding the ring on as he said, “this ring will serve as a reminder that I will be by your side, to the end and beyond. It is my constant, visible love for you.”

T’Challa, with his grin and a half, took a step back, as if not to invade. “I now pronounce you, husbands! You may kiss!”

Steve smirked, they had rehearsed this down to the very femtosecond. They got their hands into position, as if they were about to dance, and Bucky dipped Steve, leaning down to kiss him. Their audience, their friends, erupted in an applause as the two kissed away, relishing in the moment of bliss. A perfect moment, to separate one part of their lives to carve a new one.

They separated, turning to see bright smiles reflecting back at them. Steve glanced to Clint, who tilted his head in a question. With a slight nod, Clint burst out his seat, his kids quickly following. There was a rule to not let their game of tag interrupt the ceremony, but now, Clint was free to run away from his kids for the rest of the day, keeping his eye on them like the hawk he aimed to be.

They walked back down the aisle, allowing their photographer (who was Nakia, as it turned out) to bag a few good shots. Their friends quickly surrounded them, allowing for another bout of shots. Rita and Dot struggled to their sides, enveloping them in hugs.

That was really the best picture of them all, as behind them, their friends were smiling widely, doing silly poses. Nat stuck out her tongue. Sam and Tony stood dramatically, a smouldering effect to them. Clint was sitting on Thor’s shoulders to avoid his kids below. Rhodey looked to be in the middle of a laugh, as Clint’s kids tried to climb up him since he was beside Thor. (Pepper was helping them). Shuri and T’Challa had those small smirks on, staring at Steve and Bucky, proud of their work. (Even if Shuri had been forced into helping T’Challa). Rocket had clambered onto Bruce’s back, clearing whispering to him and likely trying to get him to turn into the Hulk.

All in all, the perfect picture, to show how different all their friends really were.

The dining hall – joined onto the party hall – was soon crowded as the lot of them dug into the specially chosen three course meal. All due to Steve and Bucky’s answers to obscure questions that had the two laughing for days. A fresh starter. A hearty main. And a refined dessert.

Once that was done with, the lot of them filtered into the party hall. A three-tier cake stood in the corner, by a table of candies. Many crowded by it at first, to see what was available. Meanwhile, as ’30s music sparked up, Steve and Bucky were shoved onto the dance floor. They smiled at each other as Bucky held out his hand, offering a dance, like a proper gentleman.

Just like back in the day, Bucky lead. After all, he still was the best dancer out of the two of them. Steve may have been a super soldier but that didn’t stop him from being his clumsy self. Although, he had improved since the ’30s, being lighter on his feet and far more coordinated. The two owned the floor as they danced to Dedicated To You. They swayed, Bucky spun Steve, dipped him, and as the song pattered off, they kissed.

The ’30s music was soon replaced with something more modern as people crowded the floor to dance. Nat and Sam came up to the two, grinning.

“That was some dance,” Nat said. “I can’t believe Steve didn’t step on your toes, Bucky.”

Bucky laughed, ruffling Steve’s hair. “I trained him up.”

“Look, really, I didn’t step on too many toes back in the day,” Steve defended himself.

“Except for mine, nearly every time we danced.”

“You were _that_ bad?” Sam asked.

“He was. Not anymore.” Bucky turned to Steve and planted a kiss on his lips.

“SAVE ME!” someone shouted from the other side of the room. The lot of them turned to see Clint hiding behind Peter, trying his best to evade his kids. Peter crackled while he attempted to hide Clint.

Laughter danced around the room as Clint dove out from behind Peter and ran over to Nat, hiding behind her next.

“Clint, I’m not your human shield.” She rolled her eyes when Clint sprinted away as his kids got too close.

Sam watched as Clint dove into the dining room, clearly glad for T’Challa holding the doors open. “Regretting letting them play yet?”

“Nah,” Steve said, laughing as they saw Clint – in the distance – jump up on a shelf that could barely take his weight for more than three seconds.

Bucky turned away from the disaster of Clint falling to the ground and getting tagged by his kids. “It’s certainly entertaining.”

Nat hooked her arm around Sam’s. “Come on, let’s dance. See ya later, fossils!” She dragged Sam closer to the speakers, leaving Steve and Bucky breaking down in laughter at the scared expression on Sam’s face.

Steve and Bucky decided the best course of action would be to watch people dance for a bit, while they tried to work out what era of music was playing. They made their way to a table where Rita and Dot were sitting, who gestured to the other two seats. Steve and Bucky sat, beaming.

“So… this is your retirement?” Dot asked, sipping some wine.

“It sure is,” Bucky said. He grasped Steve’s hand, holding it.

Rita smiled, in that way she used to years back, like she was about to say something she knew would rile them. “I hear the king here set this all up? You boys never could do anything for yourselves.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “We had you both on our back telling us how great marriage was while T’Challa was planning our wedding. I don’t think we had a choice.”

“Besides, _Rita_ , we used to do things on our own,” Bucky said.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Bucky smiled, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulders. “I even taught Steve how to make pancakes.”

At that, both Rita and Dot raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“Okay… He burnt the majority but not _all_.”

Steve laughed at the way Rita and Dot relaxed. “You do know I can cook other things, right?”

Rita snorted. “Bucky kept you alive with his cooking, dear.”

“I can cook!” Steve exclaimed, defending himself. Bucky chuckled lightly as he placed a kiss on Steve’s cheek.

“You’ll have to prove it to these lovely ladies someday. They don’t believe you.”

Dot downed the rest of her wine, as unsophisticated as ever. “I need more alcohol to block out their cuteness.”

Rita placed a hand at her shoulder, shaking her head. “Don’t get ill.”

She shot a smile Rita’s way, getting up thereafter. “I won’t.”

“And _we’re_ supposed to be the cute ones,” Steve said, gaining a laugh from Rita.

Steve and Bucky stayed with Rita and Dot for a good while, reconnecting in ways they couldn’t over email. They talked and drank and reminisced and joked, laughter filling their corner of the room. Until Rita and Dot became more visibly tired. They glanced at each other for a long while as Bucky was teasing them about the plum pie. Although, he stopped when Rita and Dot turned to them, serious expressions on.

“Go have fun with people your own age,” Rita said, nodding to the dance floor. “ _Please_.”

“Rita…” Steve began, immediately getting cut off by Dot raising her hand.

“No arguments. This is your wedding reception. Have fun.” Dot smiled at them encouragingly, like she was reminding puppies that they could survive on their own for a few hours.

They got up, smiled at Rita and Dot and made their way to the dance floor once more. Their friends dragged them in to dance along to the Cha-Cha Slide, because what was a party without that song? A lot of them struggled with how low they could get. A few dresses were under stress of being ripped, luckily, everyone’s outfits made it out alive. As the slides of cha-chas was rounded up, the music had suddenly taken a dance turn. Next up, Macarena. Then for some odd reason, Tony begged for Cotton Eye Joe. The Superman was suggested, to everyone’s dismay. To finish up the round of dance songs, YMCA came on.

And the music resumed to normal, allowing everyone to collapse to the floor, crawling over to the bar to grab some drinks. All out of breath, sweaty as hell, and most were wobbly on their legs. When they all got suitably quenched, they returned to the dance floor to dance without burning themselves out. Although, Clint wasn’t dancing now, as he was back to get chased around by his kids.

Eventually, the cake was cut into, after a round of dancing which left everyone gasping again. Bucky got a slice on a plate to do the cute, ‘feed ya partner some cake’ thing. But instead he got some icing on his thumb, placed it on Steve’s cheek (with little protest) and proceeded to kiss it off. Nakia made sure to capture that moment perfectly.

Steve and Bucky took pieces to Rita and Dot, who were gleaming. Even from their corner, they were enjoying themselves.

“You boys really are in your element when dancing,” Dot said, winking to them. “Hardly worn out but sweaty as heck? That sounds about right.”

Rita burst out laughing. “You can’t tell them that… It’s _rude_.”

Steve and Bucky giggled as they set the plates down. Good ol’ Rita and Dot. They quickly got wrapped up in a conversation about dancing before Rita and Dot practically had to shove them away and back towards the rest of their friends. On their way to go talk to someone, Rocket jumped onto Bucky’s back, clinging on like he was hiding.

“Hey!” Bucky shouted, twisting around to try and look at Rocket.

Steve broke down laughing, having clutch his belly as he laughed at the sight of Bucky trying to get a cackling Rocket off his back. Soon enough, Clint ran by and tapped Rocket on the shoulder, sprinting past in a fleeting visit.

“Well, ain’t that something,” Rocket grumbled and jumped onto Steve’s shoulders, leaping over to a table, gaining on Clint.

Steve recovered from laughing, wiping his eyes. “Guess Rocket’s playing tag now.”

Shuri appeared by them, Nat beside her. They all looked on as Rocket jumped onto Clint’s back, the perfect tactic to not getting tagged.

“We should play,” Shuri said. “It’ll be fun.”

Nat smirked and ran over to Clint, extending a hand. “Tag me and we’ll all play.”

With Nat tagged, Rocket was soon ‘it’ again. Leading to Rocket clambering onto anyone and everyone now that no one was going near another person. Nat and Clint teamed up soon enough which meant everyone had teamed up within ten minutes. Thor liked to crash into people when he was ‘it’, resulting in quite a few falls.

But in the grand scheme of things, with upbeat music playing in the background – and Yakety Sax occasionally playing in between – everyone was having one hell of a time. Rita and Dot, in their corner, sipped some coffee as they watched chaos unfold right in front of their eyes. Though, really, the smiles on everyone’s faces was the best part of all.

At some point, Steve and Bucky ran over to Rita and Dot’s table, dodging T’Challa and Shuri. Unfortunately, before they could reach them, Rocket and Groot came close by. Knowing that a chase around a table was unpredictable, they ran after them, leaving Steve and Bucky behind. They celebrated their escape with a kiss.

Rita snorted, glancing up to the more than sweaty Steve and Bucky. “Should I remind you that it’s now seven o’clock and technically your wedding night?”

“I don’t think anyone would mind if you…” Dot winked and nodded to the door.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist. “Should we?”

Bucky threw his arms around Steve’s neck, drawing him in for another, deeper kiss. “Maybe?”

“I’d suggest you two run, because everyone has grouped together to team up against you both,” Tony said, from where he was leaning against the wall by them.

Steve glanced to the side, catching a glimpse of everyone in running stances, ready to sprint but unmoving. Bucky withdrew from their hold, taking Steve’s hand. He was staring at Tony, who was smirking, a little too much. Of course, at that second Tony turned to everyone and gave a single nod.

Bucky tugged on Steve’s hand, getting them both to sprint out of there as all their friends charged at them. Rita and Dot simply observed this going down, their table rattling with the all the heavy footfall. Some squeezed through to the dining room, but Steve and Bucky were already out of there and into the hallways. They continued to sprint, even though no one was chasing them now, likely staying in the party hall. Maybe they chased them out on purpose.

The two didn’t stop running until they made it to their quarters. Bucky smiled at Steve, dragging him into the bedroom, allowing them both to collapse against the bed in victory. You couldn’t win a game of tag, but they weren’t ‘it’ and had escaped. In someone’s book, that had to be a win.

Bucky hovered over Steve, slowly loosening his cravat as Steve stared at him, pupils widening by the second. As Bucky got to work on the waistcoat, methodically, Steve leant up and undid Bucky’s cravat in one fell swoop. They continued like that, under their heavy gazes, in a silence which brought harmony.

They had all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support you guys are giving this story. The journey isn't over quite yet!!  
> Come chat with me on [tumblr!](http://kateis-cakeis.tumblr.com/)


	10. Professional Opinion

Morning came, after the blissful wedding, and Steve’s face was buried in Bucky’s shoulder. He struggled to move, due to the metal arm keeping him in place. But he did manage to shuffle back, seeing Bucky in an idyllic sleep. Although, it took all of two minutes for Bucky to stir and blink awake. His eyes went soft as he realised Steve had been staring.

“Morning, husband,” he said.

Steve leant forward and placed a kiss on Bucky’s nose. “Hello, husband.”

But, due to the fact that they were them and their luck was rotten, there were footsteps outside their door, a long-winded sigh and a call for them to come out. It was Nat’s voice. She seemed less than pleased. Annoyed would probably be the word.

Bucky hid his face in his pillow. “What?!” he grumbled.

“Get dressed and I’ll tell you.” Another sigh. “It’s not good news.”

They couldn’t have scrambled out of the bedroom fast enough. It must have been important but not world threatening. It was something personal, perhaps. Something _only_ to do with them, considering their door hadn’t been blasted in. Nat and Sam were waiting on their couch. Tony was sitting at their island, tapping on his phone. Steve and Bucky cautiously approached the couch with furrowed brows.

Nat nodded to the TV. Where a news channel was being played, the main headline? ‘Winter Soldier trial to go ahead’. Sam picked up the remote and unmuted it, with tired eyes. Bucky stumbled to the side of the couch and sat on the arm, staring at the TV. Steve huffed out a breath and turned away.

_“…The letter two weeks ago should have been the end of it. However, due to the Attorney General resigning, the White House has changed its stance. This is said to be because of a letter from within the cabinet, but that hasn’t been confirmed,” a news reporter said, standing outside of the White House. “What will happen now that the trial is set for July?”_

_“Well, there will be a call to get James Barnes out of Wakanda. This will either be willingly or by force. If Willingly, then the trial has a chance to go more smoothly, especially if Barnes admits guilt.”_

_“If he’s found guilty, will he go to the Raft?”_

_“It’s more than likely… Unless execution is something the court will consider.”_

Bucky shot off the chair, pushing his hands through his hair. “Turn it off,” he said sternly.

Sam instantly turned it off. He watched Bucky carefully, his eyes less tired now and more sympathetic. Before Sam could think on how to comfort Bucky, Steve was already at his side, pulling him into a hug. Nat sighed, _again_ , and stood, making her way over to Tony. He showed her his phone, allowing her to scroll through it for a few minutes.

“Twitter is having a meltdown,” Nat murmured.

“Worse than that,” Tony said. “The trending hashtags are… ‘HeServedHisTime’ and ‘BarnesIsGuilty’. I assume they’re suggesting your time spent brainwashed was serving your time.” He got his phone off Nat and went back to scrolling. “People support you, Barnes. They also hate you.”

Bucky rubbed his eyes, stepping away from Steve, needing his own space. “What does this _mean_?”

“It means you’ll have to go back to America, or face being hunted again,” Sam said, still firmly seated in the couch.

Tony slowly approached Bucky. “We’ll get you the best lawyer.”

Bucky looked to Tony, shaking his head. “What are people saying?”

“That you were the one to kill people, you should be held accountable. That because you were brainwashed it’s not your fault. That America is _still_ looking to blame someone after the HYDRA debacle. Because powerful Americans were involved with what they did to you, and this is a way to cover that up.”

“That’d be right.” Bucky turned to Steve, who was clenching his fists a little more than what was healthy. “Steve, relax.”

“How can I…? I tried to spare you from this but they… I just–”

“Hey.” Bucky cupped Steve’s cheek. “We’ll get through this.”

And get through it they did. Tony talked through a list of lawyers, trying to get the best, despite still finding it hard to look at Bucky. Though that was less to do with Bucky these days and just what he did. The two actually got on quite well when their conversations on the trial got off topic.

Shuri collected up the evidence and reports she had made when Bucky was under her care. T’Challa spent time conversing with Secretary Ross on when Bucky would go back to America, T’Challa tended to stress he’d be there when he’d be there. Nat and Sam collected up all of Pepper’s advice to work out how the hell to control the social media scene. And Steve gave titbits of information to Melissa, enabling them to have some control over the media.

“So, you’re going with this lawyer?” Tony asked, pointing to the sheet of paper.

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

The lot of them were chilling in the common room because, apparently, that’s where everyone had to be if they were grouping up together. It had been a couple of weeks and while everyone who had been there for the wedding had left, Nat, Sam and Tony had stayed. It was like a support system, really.

“Franklin Nelson, you sure?”

“Yeah. He seems… good?”

Tony lay back in his seat, kicking his feet up on the table. “He is. I know him through Daredevil, a vigilante that operates in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Steve, who had been scrolling through Twitter (even though everyone told him not to), looked up. “Do you keep a track of everyone in New York?”

“Have to. We need to know who the good guys are. Besides, Daredevil and his friends saved New York once.”

Nat perked up at that. “They what?”

“Remember the strange earthquake in May 2016?”

“It was an earthquake, what was strange about it?”

Tony laughed and swiped his legs off the table. “Just the fact that an organisation caused it. I know a lot you guys don’t know.”

“Clearly,” Steve said. “So, this Nelson guy, what’s the chance he’ll represent Bucky?”

“He’s one of those guys who understands, I think.”

Turns out he really did understand. When they managed to get into contact with him, he jumped at the chance. For one thing, he got a little excited to represent a WWII war veteran and also was definitely on the ‘he was a war prisoner, he served his time’ side.

Of course, there was the pressure for Bucky to return to America but T’Challa wasn’t having it and certainly wouldn’t let anyone near. Bucky would be there for his trial, he just didn’t need to be there months in advance.

They got themselves together, had regular calls with Nelson, who wanted to be called Foggy, because of reasons unknown. They got all the evidence they could, as well as the file Nat had wrangled back in 2014. It was to show the court but, if it came to it, they would make it public. It detailed a lot about the assassinations but also mentioned what HYDRA had done. It was clear Bucky was not at fault, they just needed a jury to see that.

Eventually the date was creeping closer and it was almost time to go. Except, there was one day Steve and Bucky wanted to stay in Wakanda for. As Steve woke, to an early day, the smell of bacon filtered in. He opened his eyes to a breakfast in bed and a smirking Bucky, who had a wrapped present in hand. (It was wrapped in red, white and blue paper).

“Happy one hundredth Birthday!” Bucky bellowed.

“Jeez. When did you wake up?” Steve pushed himself up, to sit.

“Thirty minutes ago.” He placed a plate of bacon sandwiches on Steve’s lap. “Eat first. Then you can see your present.”

Steve laughed and began eating, surprised by how nice the bacon actually was. Bucky picked up another plate from the bedside table, which had scrambled eggs on it. They ate in a pleasant silence, both still waking up a bit. It was _early_ after all.

Once done, Bucky moved the plates out of the way and threw his present onto Steve. He snuggled in beside him and waited with a smile on his face. Steve tore into the present, really not caring for the paper. It was soft and woolly. A sweater, a burgundy one. Steve unfolded it and got a good look at the front. There was a bright red heart, with an ‘S’ and a ‘B’ in the middle of it.

“Wow, Buck…” Steve grinned. “You started knitting again?”

“Yeah. I, uh, realised you’re lacking sweaters. Been a long time since I knitted you one.”

“Yeah… I love it.”  Steve set it down and kissed Bucky. “Now, what’s T’Challa and Shuri gonna torture me with?”

“I have no idea, doll. But I do know Nat, Sam and Tony have done something.”

“This is gonna be interesting.”

With the sweater donned, the two had a quick cup of coffee before heading down to the party hall. On their way there, an email notification came through on the tablet. (Bucky was carrying it around to take pictures). The two stopped in their tracks and stayed by the wall as they opened an email with the subject line, ‘One hundred years of fire and fury’.

_‘Steviekin! (Also, hi Bucky)._

_You’ve finally joined the 100 club! About damn time if I say so myself. (Can you tell Dot is writing this?) [Shut up, Rit]._

_Second youngest outta the four of us… I’m so proud you’re finally at the age that people have to treat you like a delicate flower otherwise you might die! I’m getting carried away with myself here._

_Anyways, we sent ya a present. T’Challa’s keeping it safe for ya._

_Oh, and, have lots of good sex tonight, boys! I bet ya enhanced abilities really make it all good. ;) (I am so sorry about this guys) [Rita, shush]._

_Happy Birthday!!!!!!_

_Dot and Rita <3.’_

“Well…” Steve began, “I can see why Rita writes the emails.”

Bucky laughed and opened up a new message to reply. He shoved the tablet onto Steve. “Say thank you or something.”

Steve typed out a quick reply, nothing too interesting. They headed off on their way once the email had sent. And, immediately after stepping into the party hall, the room erupted with noise, cheers and confetti. Because a young one-hundred-year-old needed confetti, for some reason.

“Happy one hundredth, Steve!” Shuri, Nat, Sam and Tony all shouted.

T’Challa smiled, calmly. “Happy Birthday, Steve.”

“Thanks.”

T’Challa walked up to Steve, a gift wrapped present in hand. He passed it to him, smirking. “Your special gift.”

Steve opened the paper carefully. Legitimately scared for what T’Challa and Shuri would have gotten him for his one hundredth. They really seemed to like to torment people when the opportunity arose. And the smirks on their faces only made him more fearful.

As the paper fell away, he realised that he was holding a blue frisbee with pictures of goats on it. Steve and Bucky were in hysterics as they stared at the present, T’Challa and Shuri were chuckling along.

“This is perfect?” Steve said, still laughing. “T’Challa! We should have a game.”

T’Challa stepped away. “No.”

Steve threw the frisbee to T’Challa, with a lot of force behind it. From pure instinct, T’Challa caught the thing, sighing as he threw it back. Despite what T’Challa had once said, his aim was on point and Steve caught it with ease. He grinned as T’Challa _barely_ smiled. Shuri tapped her brother on the arm and beamed at him, he rolled his eyes in response. Still, Steve had no idea why T’Challa seemed to hate frisbee so much.

Nat came up to Steve, with Sam and Tony smirking in the background. Even Bucky was smirking, so he was in on whatever they had gotten him. Steve was slightly smiling as he stared at the cardboard box Nat handed him. He was ready to laugh while also being scared as to what they could have gotten him. He felt this was a theme somehow.

He placed the box on the floor, ripping to box open (because no one had scissors and hadn’t thought about the tough sticky tape). Inside was a lamp. A kids lamp. A red, white and blue lamp. With shields on it. Steve examined it, realising the bulb was red. There was also a scribble of ‘Cap says fuck’ on the base.

He looked up to Nat, eyebrows crinkled. “ _Why_?”

Nat folded her arms. “The lamp was Sam’s idea. The bulb was Tony’s. The writing was mine. It’s _funny_.”

Steve laughed, despite his confusion. Because it was funny, and he’d been suppressing the giggles bubbling up inside to act serious. He picked up the lamp and shook his head. “Oo, look, it was made in China.”

“Yeah, nothing is American, not even Captain America merch,” Tony said, a chuckle behind his voice.

Steve placed the lamp back in the box as Shuri handed another present to him.

“From Rita and Dot?” he asked.

“Yeah!”

He was careful with this present, it was so small and seemed delicate. Once the paper had fallen to the floor, it revealed a small box. Inside were two necklaces with the same pendent on them. It was metal with RB~MW engraved into it. At the side was a clasp. He passed the box to Bucky as he carefully took one necklace out, opening the pendant. It opened to four panels, forming a square. Inside those squares were four pictures. Pre-serum Steve. A young Bucky. A mid-twenties Rita. A teenage Dot.

“Oh my god…” he whispered.

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky said.

“There’s another.”

Bucky took the other necklace out and sure enough, it was the same. “Wow…”

With the help of Nat (as she knew how to handle the small catches), the two got their necklaces on. A perfect present, that Rita and Dot predictably knew both Steve and Bucky would want. (And acted as a late present for Bucky). They smiled at each other, knowing the necklace brought a small bit of home back.

“So… what’s next guys?” Steve asked, which somehow spurred Sam and Tony into life as they dived into all they were about to do.

Which was really just a mixture of party activities and dances, until they ended off the day with lots of cake and a decent enough meal. Apparently, to Tony’s resentment, they couldn’t just supply Steve with cake all day. He needed more calories than the cake could really give him.

And that’s really how the day panned out. They played many a game, got Tony stupidly drunk so he’d dance to Gangnam Style like it was 2012 and not 2018 and had a bunch of hot dogs, which meant cake was allowed. And, ultimately, they all ended up talking in a corner and messing about until Bucky managed to drag Steve away as the day crept into night. After all, they had to have lots of good sex. Rita and Dot had practically wished it on them.

Once the morning came, however, it was time to go back to America.

T’Challa gave Bucky a hug as the lot of them clambered onto the quinjet some of the Avengers had arrived in. When they made it to New York, Foggy met them at the Avengers Facility. He went through what would happen and explained for the umpteenth time that Bucky had to go into custody before the trial. He also confiscated Bucky’s vibranium arm, due to the court seeing any prosthetic Bucky had as a weapon.

When they were getting ready to set off, Steve enveloped Bucky in a hug so tight that it was like he was glued to him. Bucky melted into it, as they had no idea how this was all going to go down. They had gained much support online. A jury was bound to have prior opinions. All this had graced the news for the last two years. There was always going to be bias.

“If the worst happens, I’ll fix it,” Steve whispered.

“No doubt by breaking the law.”

“Only for you.”

Before they knew it. The trial had started with some evidence, that in some cases has been surprisingly well kept. There was a screen in the court room, just so all the evidence (which was a lot) could be displayed when needed. The first lot of witnesses were brought up. These people included witnesses from DC, witnesses from the old investigations of the assassinations and family members of the assassinated. It included Nat.

But this trial was less about proving Bucky did it and more about proving he was willing. Clearly, some people didn’t quite understand what brainwashed meant. Or what HYDRA was capable of, once.

And it wasn’t long until Steve was called to the stand by the prosecution.

“Captain Rogers, what is your relation to the defendant?”

“He’s my husband.”

“Do you think that effects the accuracy of your evidence?”

“No.”

“According to the SSR files, you went against direct orders for Mr Barnes. In 2016 you broke the law for Mr Barnes. Does that not influence your evidence?”

Steve glanced to the screen that showed the file about his trek to rescue the captive soldiers. One line had been highlighted on screen. ‘He ignored Colonel Phillips orders in the hope that Sergeant Barnes was still alive’.

“Objection, Your Honour. Asked and answered.” Foggy said.

“Sustained.”

“I’ll move on. Captain Rogers, can you tell the jury what happened with the Winter Soldier in Washington, D.C. on January 11th, 2014?”

Steve breathed in and out. “The soldier intercepted our car and brought it to a stop. We proceeded to fight on the bridge. The soldier threw me off and when I caught up with him, we fought until I knocked his mask off. I… I realised then that he was Bucky. He didn’t know me, he didn’t know his own name.”

“In 2016, he knew his own name. Did he know you then?”

“He did, after he was knocked out when we fell into river outside the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre.”

“Can you be sure if he forgot at all?”

“Yes. Because he was confused and I know him. I know his expressions like the back of my hand, and he was confused, he didn’t know me.”

“Mr Barnes was a spy. Could he have faked those expressions?”

“They were genuine.”

“How do you know?”

Steve clenched his jaw. He focused on his breathing, trying to keep calm. “My senses are enhanced. I can tell whether someone is faking an expression or not. I can tell when someone is lying. Bucky was brainwashed.”

The lawyer shifted. Possibly not expecting that answer, instead, they changed tactic. “The only evidence presented for a mind wipe is a chair. A simple prop. Would you say the man before you is the same man you knew seventy years ago?”

“No, but neither am I. He’s changed but he’s still Bucky.”

“You see,” the lawyer began, looking to the jury, “what we have here is a man blinded by love who trusts a masterful spy and assassin. Someone who worked for the Soviets, for Russia. A man like that could easily lie to a man he’s using for cover.” The lawyer looked to the judge. “No more questions, Your Honour.”

The prosecution was brutal when it came to questioning witnesses and displaying evidence. As the weeks went on, the worse it looked for Bucky. Foggy was exact in his questions, but it wasn’t easy to cross-examine. The assassinations performed had been cruel and precise. It didn’t look good, as the evidence used swayed people into thinking that these well carried out assassinations couldn’t have been done by someone who had no memories.

After two and a half months of going through every assassination there was still evidence and witnesses for, things were beginning to change. Ever since Sam, Nat, Steve and even T’Challa (who flew in one day) had been questioned, things were looking up. Eventually, though, Foggy got a chance to play their best card. As Shuri was now the one answering questions.

“Your Highness, what procedure did you carry out for Mr Barnes?” Foggy asked.

“I reset his neural pathways to remove the trigger words HYDRA had inserted. They had done this through psychological torture. I removed the connection between the memory of the words to the amygdala – a part of the brain essential to feel certain emotions and is responsible for survival instincts and memory. Through this, the words could no longer be used to control Barnes. I also used Wakanda’s advanced medicine to fix the scar tissues left on Barnes’s brain from the electricity the machine used.”

The evidence of Bucky’s brain scans before and after the surgery were displayed. The darker grey in the first scan that littered parts of the brain – clearly not focused on the memory centres – were the same colour as the rest of the tissue in the second scan.

Foggy gestured to the scans. “The scar tissue shows the damage done to Mr Barnes. The procedure of removing neural pathways lengthy, requiring four hours of work. Your Highness, what does scar tissue on the brain do to a person?”

“It can cause headaches, nausea, vomiting and decreased appetite. There can be changes in mood, changes in personality, behavioural changes and cognitive decline, including the inability to concentrate. It can cause problems with vision, hearing, balance and a change in or loss of smell. Other symptoms include, muscle stiffness, weakness, numbness or paralysis, confusion, seizures, coma and, finally, memory loss.” Shuri calmed her breathing once she finished the list. It was certainly a long one. “If Barnes didn’t have the serum, he would have died decades ago from the damage to his brain.”

“And that is your professional opinion?”

“It is.”

“How was Mr Barnes during recovery?”

“Calm and eager to get well. He used to have nightmares every night amongst other issues. He never quit at therapy and still attends sessions.”

“You said the word ‘used’, is he better now?”

“He is.”

Foggy nodded. “That is all, Your Honour.”

The prosecution got nothing on Shuri, she was simply too prepared with all her medical evidence for this. Wakanda kept very detailed reports of their procedures.

Once the last lot of witnesses were questioned, all that was left was Bucky. The last-ditch attempt to sway the jury to their side. Meanwhile, as the news kept up with the trial, public opinion was shifting.

“Were you brainwashed?” Foggy asked.

“Yes.”

“How did that happen?”

Bucky shivered. He closed his eyes, breathed in and out. “There was a machine. It shot electricity through me, erased my memories until I knew nothing, until I was blank – ready to comply.”

“Was that always the method they used?”

“No.” He opened his eyes, shivering again. “They would psychologically torture me. It would go on for so long I’d forget my own name. Even when I knew nothing else, I couldn’t forget Steve so they… convinced me his sacrifice was because I hadn’t been there to protect him.” His head dropped. “I wanted to die then. That’s why they used the machine, because their soldier was faulty.”

“So, nothing you did during those years was through your own free will?”

“Nothing.”

“No further questions, Your Honour.”

With the prosecution being the last up, everyone who was rooting for Bucky waited with bated breath. The lawyer was brutal, liked to test how far they could push people. And despite the therapy, Bucky was quite vulnerable when too many memories of his time spent brainwashed came bubbling up to the top. There was no way to rebuttal those when you needed to remember for the court and jury.

“Mr Barnes, can you tell us what occurred after you fell from the train in February 1945?”

Bucky dug his nails into his palm, feeling the indents he was making. “I… Russians found me, they had me on a stretcher and I could see… some of my arm was gone. They kept me prisoner and kept me in cryo. They– they began the psychological torture and– The scientists cut off my arm at some point. Arnim Zola was there… And then I had a metal arm instead of a flesh one. I tried to escape but they sedated me, I think. The next I knew, I was put into a tube and frozen. After that… came the mind wipes.”

“And this was against your will?”

“I never wanted any of that!” He breathed, slowly. “I didn’t want it.”

“How often were you out of cryo?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long did they torture you for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know anything, Mr Barnes?”

“I know what they did to me. I know I felt more like a weapon than a person. I know I didn’t know myself. That’s all.”

The lawyer shook their head, a little tinge of a smirk played at their lips. “Mr Barnes, what was your relation to Alexander Pierce?”

Bucky shut his eyes, maybe that way he’d be safe from the preying eyes. “He, uh, he controlled the Asset– me for two decades.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“He was my handler.”

“Was he an ally?”

“He–” Bucky tried his upmost best to keep it together. He scrunched his eyes up, dug his nails in with more force than before. “He would hit me… if I didn’t comply. He controlled the Asset, he was loyal to him like a puppy.” His eyes flung open, red and sore. “He was no ally.”

“Are you sure? Because this picture here,” A picture appeared on the screen of Bucky sitting in Pierce’s house, in the shadows but still visible from the right angle, “is you and Pierce looking friendly, at his house.”

Bucky clenched his fist, shaking his head. “I don’t remember that.”

“How so? You were there.”

“My memories of my time as the Winter Soldier are vague… I had my mind shocked with electricity. There was damage left on my brain… I don’t remember everything.”

“Isn’t that convenient?” The lawyer turned to the jury to direct a speech at them while Bucky’s vision blurred.

His heartrate picked up, a strange pain spread around his chest and he began to sweat and hyperventilate. Foggy was quick to notice this unfolding, while Nat and Sam were desperately trying to keep Steve in his seat.

“Your Honour, Mr Barnes is having a panic attack,” Foggy said. “Can he step down?”

The judge glanced to Bucky, seeing his state. “Yes, he may.”

Luckily the lawyer didn’t have anything else to ask so everything was done for the day. When Bucky was taken back into custody, Steve was allowed to see him. Previously, no contact was allowed, but after Bucky’s panic attack, they were lenient. Although, no one trusted him, as they had him chained in a super soldier proof handcuff. They even had his feet cuffed, to prevent any form of escape. Steve felt near sick at the sight, as Bucky was being treated as a threat, seen as a weapon rather than a human being once again.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said as he sat.

Bucky smiled, faintly. His eyes were still red. “Hey.”

“How are you?”

“Alright… kinda.”

“I’m sorry that _lawyer_ tried to make it seem…” He shook his head.

“Yeah, well, it brought some stuff back.”

Steve turned to the guard in the room. “Can I hug him?”

The guard nodded. Steve stood and rounded the table crouching slightly by Bucky and hugging him. Bucky hid his face in Steve’s hair, letting out a small sob. They stayed like that until the guard cleared his throat. Steve pulled away and sat once again, looking to Bucky with sad eyes.

“I love you,” Steve said.

“I love you too.”

“If the verdict goes wrong…”

“I know.”

The following day, everyone poured into the court room and took their places. The jury were neutral in their expressions even though the fate of someone’s life lay in their hands. If Bucky was found guilty, he’d been sent to the Raft. Or worse, they could push for execution for working with HYDRA or, if they really wanted to try for it, Nazis.

A lot hung in the balance.

“Have you come to a decision in which you all agree?” the judge asked.

One member of the jury stood.

“We have, Your Honour. We find the defendant not guilty.”

A breath of relief filled the room. Many had gotten on Bucky’s side as the trial was aired on TV. Many began to see what had happened to him, what HYDRA had been capable of. As soon as they got the opportunity, Steve and Bucky hugged. It was so warm, those around them looked away, not wanting to intrude. It had been some time since Steve was able to hug Bucky so closely, without any chains. Bucky pulled back, kissing Steve briefly.

“I need to bake the plum pie,” he murmured.

“We’ll get the ingredients then.”

And that’s how everyone ended up in the Avengers Facility, baking a plum pie. Bucky wouldn’t tell anyone what the secret ingredient was and kept it hidden until he precisely needed it. At one point, he got Steve to distract everyone (by pretending to trip over something) while Bucky added the ingredient to the mixture. Once everyone realised what had happened (due to Bucky not aiding nor laughing) they all groaned and got back to helping out. Of course, the lot of them had invited Rita and Dot over, so they were sitting, disappointed at not knowing what the ingredient was.

“Hey!” Rita shouted. “Tackle him and find the ingredient!”

Bucky jumped away from the pastry he was working on as everyone turned to him. He raised his hands and smirked. “Jokes on you, I only had enough for the pie and I left no labelling.”

In an instant, Bucky had everyone frowning, which was quite an achievement. Shuri, Wanda and Peter decided to sit with Rita and Dot, gleaming information while also joking with them about memes. As the two were well versed in technology and internet culture, much more than Steve and Bucky were. What was even better was overhearing Rita and Dot detailing LGBT history that was often forgotten to the three youngsters. After all, they had asked. Bucky and Steve smiled to each other as they realised Shuri, Wanda and Peter weren’t getting out of that easily.

Soon enough, with the collective help of everybody, two pies were in the oven. (There were too many people to make only one). They all gladly fell into chairs, relaxing and stretching after their hard work. Bucky titled his head back, closing his eyes for a brief second.

“How does it feel to have it all done with?” Sam asked.

“It feels freeing.” He shot Sam a smile, while Sam merely rolled his eyes.

Nat held up a bottle of vodka. “I’ve got soda for the kids.”

“ _Kid_ ,” Wanda corrected, looking to Peter teasingly. He _was_ the youngest there by a couple years.

Tony presented a bottle of wine to the group. He pushed it towards Steve and Bucky. “I know you grandads like to appreciate the taste of alcohol these days so… I got the best tasting wine I could find.”

Bucky picked up the bottled and looked at the label. “Pumpkin?”

“Apparently it’s very nice.” Tony shrugged. “If it’s not, I have some more traditional wine.”

Steve took the bottle, inspecting it. “It sounds nice.”

Bruce stood and grinned. “Might as well break out the rest of the stock, right Tony?”

Tony shot him a glare before smiling. “Let’s get this celebration started!”

Friday was extremely happy to blast the room with pure noise. Okay, it was actually chart music but for autumn 2018… the music was lacking. Everything for some reason was still trapped in summer tunes and similar sounds. There were a couple of songs that stood out, but it wasn’t enough in the grand scheme of things.

While Peter decided to sit on top of a fridge, shouting every ten minutes that this facility was a nightmare (mainly because no one would allow him to have a sip of alcohol). Shuri was recording him, laughing about how she was going to flood YouTube with six seconds videos of this, especially since he said it differently each time. Wanda tried – really tried – to send him a beer through the use of her powers but each time she got close, Tony would notice and shoot the bottle. (There was a lot of glass everywhere).

Rhodey was chilling on a couch, with Tony and Sam, causing the lot of them to have a debate on who flew the best. This was based on mobility, weapons and Tony’s ego. Which meant he automatically lost, so it was really a comparison between Rhodey and Sam, to which science was brought up more than once from a grumbling Tony. Pepper was with them on the couch but stayed out of the conversation and concentrated on who was the most annoying out of the three of them.

Nat was on the floor, lying against the wall, sipping on her vodka like it was fine wine, Bruce was sitting next to her, already drunk from the vodka Nat had shared with him. While Steve and Bucky sat opposite, in front of a couch, trying to decide if pumpkin wine was actually the best thing ever or not.

“So, back to Wakanda is it?” Nat asked, jostling Bruce, who had slipped to lie on her shoulder. He jumped back up and sent an apologetic look.

Steve laughed, glancing to Bucky and then over his shoulder to Shuri. “Hey, Shuri! We still welcome in Wakanda?”

She angled her phone to them, smiling. “You bet!”

“Shuri, you recording us?!” Bucky said, challenging her.

“Uh-huh. Look at you with your pumpkin wine!” She laughed and turned back to Peter, who was slightly opening the fridge.

Tony looked across the room, noticing the movement out the corner of his eye. “Friday, lock the fridge!”

“Fridge locked, sir,” she said in that cheerful voice.

Peter scowled and glared at Tony, crossing his arms. “THIS FACILITY IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!”

“Oh, he said fucking!” Bucky shouted. “Parker, run like hell!”

As Tony bolted up from the sofa, striding up to Peter, everyone was laughing their heads off. Peter scrambled off the fridge and hid behind Shuri. Wanda stood in front of them, laughing like mad but still trying to defend Peter from a father figure parental scolding. But Steve, who was too busy half choking on his wine, beat him to it.

“Language!” Steve shouted.

Tony stopped mid step and sighed. “What he said. Peter, I’m gonna tell Aunt May.”

Peter guffawed, standing away from Shuri. “Aunt May doesn’t mind that I swear. I do it all the time.”

“OooOoo,” Nat called. “He’s a big man.”

“We swear all the time, don’t we?” Peter said, shrugging.

“We don’t say fuck, that’s for damn sure,” Sam said. “Well, not without a ton of shit going on.”

Tony rolled his eyes and looked to Sam. “Don’t encourage him, birdman.”

“Hey!”

“Look, you’re really trying to stop a spider kid from trying to swear?” Bruce wondered, standing on wobbly legs. He leant against the wall. “Tony… you know better than that.”

Rhodey lay back into the sofa and sipped his beer. “Can I ask… what’s happening here?”

“We’re all pretending a seventeen-year-old isn’t allowed to swear,” Pepper said.

The ridiculousness of the situation had them all bursting out in laughter again. This went on for some time until Tony hugged Peter before returning to the couch, getting quite the scolding look from Pepper for a split second. Everyone went back to their conversations, though Peter didn’t return to the top of the fridge. He instead decided to curl up in an armchair and scroll through his social media.

Shuri came over to Steve and Bucky, sliding onto the couch behind them. They looked to her smiling, to which she returned the gesture. They quickly got into a conversation about their favourite hair products. Nat was rolling her eyes in the distance, to which the three tried their best to ignore her.

“So, Wakanda,” Shuri said, after they got onto the topic of the fancy technological bathrooms in Wakanda. “You’re coming home again?”

“Where else would we go?” Bucky asked, sipping his wine.

“You have your friends here.”

“This…” Steve gestured with a long sweeping arm, “is not our home.”

Shuri grinned. “Glad to hear you say that, Steve. Since you were so reluctant.”

He shrugged. “I know how to farm goats now, kinda. I wanna go back to that.”

Bucky kissed Steve on the cheek. “Good.”

“Aw,” Nat sounded. “Old men goat farmers. How cute!”

Steve and Bucky looked to each other, grinning. The life that awaited them in Wakanda was the perfect way to just… be. Simply be. Like they should have long ago. But now it could happen, it was possible. It was _real_. And it was perfect. Nothing stood in the way.

Nothing at all.


	11. Life Goes On

Steve and Bucky stepped out of a vessel and onto solid ground. Plenty of other vehicles were parked all around, stuck to the ground as the gravity around was thick with promise. The clouds above, with the orange skies really should have been improved on. But, well, what could you do?

With hands in their pockets, they avoided the crowds outside the doors of a building. Plenty of smoke flittered around them, making the environment around suffocating. It really didn’t help that the place was unbelievably badly filtered. The smog was quite the nightmare.

When they eventually dived into the door, they rushed over to the bar, avoiding the dingy restaurant area altogether. The bartender gave them a _look_ like she always did. With her blue skin and vibrant eyes. If they didn’t know better, Steve and Bucky would believe it was really just paint. But they _did_ know better and things had really changed for them.

They sat at the bar and were more than excited to have their favourite cocktail on the menu. While they had learnt to appreciate the taste of alcohol, this drink blew the socks off an Asgardian any day. It really had its effect on the two super soldiers if they had enough. Its name was Multiverse Shaker, as it could get any species drunk. And this particular bar was pretty much universe renowned for it, nowhere else did it better.

“So,” the bartender began, placing down their drinks, “you boys thinking of making us your regular?”

“It already is, Lorlea,” Bucky said. “You’re our favourite.”

Lorlea smiled. “I’m flattered. It’s always good to know the infamous Rogers-Barnes likes you stuff.”

Steve lightly chuckled. “We’re not infamous.”

“Might as well be with the amount of speeches you two do. You’d think Earth was no home to you.” Before they could reply, Lorlea scowled. “Here’s trouble.”

Someone else hopped up onto a barstool, flagging down Lorlea and ordering the strongest alcohol the bar had. Steve looked to the guy and raised his eyebrow, sipping on his cocktail. Bucky merely rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“Stop judging me,” the guy said, throwing some money on the bar.

“Rocket, we’d never judge you,” Steve said.

“Yeah, right.”

Rocket was a little different these days. His hair was greying, and he was lot grumpier. Becoming an old raccoon really didn’t suit him. When the bartender placed down his drink, Rocket downed half of it.

“Okay, what happened?” Bucky said, poking Rocket’s shoulder.

“Groot.” Rocket’s head landed on the bar. “I miss him. Ever since he married, he never visits.”

“Give him a call.”

“Yeah… I should.” Rocket lifted his head and wiped his eyes. “I miss the days where all my family were with me, you know?” He chugged the rest of his drink.

“Have a reunion.” Steve shrugged. “It’s what we do with the Avengers.”

“ _Ex_ -Avengers,” Bucky corrected.

“You’re right,” Rocket murmured, pulling out a device.

“Can you speak a little louder, Rocket, didn’t quite hear ya there.” Steve laughed when Rocket shot him a glare. “While you’re texting your family, how’s Gamora and Quill?”

“Oh my _god_.” Rocket rolled his eyes. “Their children are monsters. I know they’re adopted but… three different species of ugly? They were pushing it.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll tell them that.”

“They wouldn’t care.”

“How’s Drax and Mantis?”

“Weirdly good for two people living together who hate each other. Mantis has a girlfriend now, which is… I don’t know? Good for her?”

“Mantis can handle herself,” Steve said, draining the cocktail.

“It’s not Mantis I’m worried about.” Rocket stared down at the device. “How’s your lot?”

Bucky downed his cocktail. He scrubbed his face and sighed, loudly. “It’s been a hell of a few months.”

Steve placed a hand at Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing. “Shuri… She, uh, she…”

“She’s in a fucking coma and no one knows what to do. Not even so-called geniuses,” Bucky blurted, his tone far passed angry.

Rocket frowned, glancing to Bucky with sorrowful eyes. “I’m sorry. Sounds rough.”

A tear slid down Bucky’s cheek. “She’s only thirty goddammit.”

“Are the others faring better?”

“Yeah,” Steve began. “Nat and Sam are back to fighting again, for some reason. I don’t understand why, but their partners are pissed off about it.”

Steve went on to ramble about everyone. About how Clint’s kids were getting older and tall, his eldest was halfway through a biology degree. How Tony and Pepper’s kid corrected a mistake on Tony’s new sustainable energy plans. The kid wasn’t even in middle school yet and was pointing out flaws that PhD scientists couldn’t.

Peter was almost completely running Stark Industries, along with the help of Ned. Rhodey and Wanda were in charge of training up new Avengers. They didn’t have to explain how Thor was keeping an eye on places like Nidavellir, everyone knew that, especially Rocket. Bruce hadn’t been in contact for five years, so there was still no news on him. Thor was losing his mind over Bruce not being there. If it wasn’t for Loki, Thor would have wasted away years back.

“You think Banner might actually be the Hulk somewhere out there?” Rocket wondered as he thumbed the device, probably sending a message to Groot.

“Dunno, he was last seen in New York before disappearing.”

Bucky hopped off his stool, pulling out his phone. Things had improved vastly with communication in the last ten years. Earth was very easy to contact when in space. Steve watched from the bar, with a frown. What came next was a phone call to T’Challa.

Steve and Bucky had changed a lot in ten years. Well, kinda. They were certainly wiser and passed advice on to those who needed it, like Rita and Dot once did. The effects their trauma had on them lessened to such an extent that they could go months without an intrusive memory or thought about it all. Goat farming was truly the best therapy out there.

In terms of looks, Bucky had short hair again, keeping a certain level of scruff on his face at all times. While Steve kept his beard short and always had his bangs swept to the side. They kept changing their looks every few years, to keep testing things. Though, the two always had the RB~MW necklaces around their necks.

“Hey,” Bucky said as soon as the call was answered.

“Bucky! I was just about to call you.” T’Challa shouted down the phone, causing Bucky to wince. “Wait, are you in space again?”

“We’re at the Reststop. Not exactly far.”

“The signal’s bad.”

“It always is here.” Bucky shoved his hand into his pocket. “Why’re you so cheery?”

“Shuri’s awake.”

Bucky fell into a silence of shock. It hadn’t been what he was expecting. In fact, just a few days ago, it seemed Shuri would never wake. T’Challa and Ramonda had been in bits the last few months, so much so that Steve and Bucky had stayed out in space for the majority of the time. Bucky was closer to Shuri than Steve was, after all they were the science geeks. So, it hit Bucky a lot harder, which meant Steve did anything to keep him distracted.

But, now, that was all over. Shuri was awake.

“She’s talking and… we know what put her into a coma,” T’Challa said, a smile clear in his voice.

“What…?”

“It seems vibranium was in her system. We couldn’t track it, at first, but once we did, we counteracted it.”

“Thank god. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Good.”

Bucky hung up and darted back to Steve, pulling on his arm. Steve looked to him, confused, before realising that Bucky was _grinning_. Ever since Shuri had been in a coma, he’d been faking most of his smiles, but this was too joyous and that could only mean one thing.

“She’s awake?”

“She is.”

Rocket smiled at them both. “Looks like it’s ya lucky day.”

“Meet up again soon?” Bucky asked, hooking his arm around Steve’s.

“Leave it a few months so you have gossip next time.”

Steve poked Rocket in the shoulder. “Call Groot.”

“I am. I am. Jeez.”

Bucky smiled, nodding to Rocket, who merely shook his head and gestured to the door with his chin. Bucky proceeded to drag Steve out of there and through the smoke clouds, back into their ship. It took them a minute to get permission to leave. You see, the Reststop was a bar that had been built on an asteroid. There was a fake atmosphere, a few hotels and, of course, the bar. It was like services on a road, but in space. And it was Steve and Bucky’s favourite place to go since it wasn’t too far from Earth.

The journey back was long. They _needed_ to get back to Wakanda. Their ship was fast but almost not fast enough, considering Bucky was desperate to get home as quickly as possible. A lot of things had changed with technology and their ship was just one of those changes. It had been developed on Earth, by the Wakandan Design Group, NASA _and_ Stark Industries. They were affordable too, if you wanted to travel in space. Which many people didn’t. They needed much more than a decade for that.

But they got there, eventually. They landed in Wakanda, easily and painlessly, hopping out of their ship as quickly as they could. They sprinted up to the sterile white room Shuri had been kept in. (Though, after the first few days, it was less white and more vibrant flowers). A few people acknowledged Steve and Bucky’s existence as the ran on by, as fast as they could. Once they got close to the room, they skidded to a stop and calmly walked in.

T’Challa was sitting in a chair beside the bed, talking about something or other when he noticed the two. Shuri sat up in her bed, grinning widely. She was pale and her eyes were heavy with tiredness, but other than that, she looked fine. Steve and Bucky came on over, giving her a hug. They dragged a couple chairs over, sitting by the bed, never wiping the smiles off their faces.

“My favourite goat farmers!” Shuri glanced to T’Challa. “His Majesty says you were in space again.”

“ _Majesty_ ,” T’Challa spluttered, causing the lot of them to laugh.

“We’ve been in space a lot lately,” Steve said, fiddling with his hands, hoping Bucky would take the reins.

“Wasn’t fun being in Wakanda when you were…” Bucky cut himself off, shaking his head.

Shuri titled her head. “Aw, Bucky… I was always going to be fine.” She laughed, darkly. “You won’t believe what I did.”

“Try us.”

“I had this cut on my hand and I was experimenting with liquid vibranium.” She lay against the pillows. “I didn’t wear gloves. Some of it popped out of the test tube and landed right in the cut. I washed it, but I was too late.”

T’Challa muttered to himself. “You have to be careful, Shuri.”

“I am! Normally…”

Bucky grinned, nonetheless. “I’m glad you’re okay now.”

“I’m a survivor.” She winked, and then coughed. “I’m _fine_.”

“You seem it,” Steve said. “You still love that song then.”

“You know I _love_ the badass version.”

Bucky laughed, throwing his head back. Shuri was obsessed with the Tomb Raider version of the song, had been for a long while. Had been for a _decade_. Somehow, Steve and Bucky kept forgetting how long a decade actually was. How quickly it came along and how people changed and how they _didn’t_. “You definitely do.”

“Are you staying in Wakanda for long?” Shuri asked. “Or are you still exploring space?”

Steve folded his arms. “You make it sound like we never come home.”

“You don’t,” T’Challa chimed. “Peter visits more than you two do.”

Bucky shook his head at the way the conversation was going. They always seemed to get into strange arguments about it. Since Shuri still had no idea how to make them age (yeah, Bucky’s serum kept his telomeres in perfect condition too), travelling was all they could do. For the moment. “We’re staying. We’ll visit places but we won’t go for months. And we’re not moving, T’Challa.”

Shuri stared at the two. “You shouldn’t. This will always be your home. No matter what.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. There was that particular elephant in the room they never really talked about. “Even if we live forever?”

“Yeah.”

They got chatting for a long while, attempting to stay away from conversations that caused tension between them. They talked about space and how Shuri was hoping to develop even more technology. She wanted to explore the galaxy one day, now that it was possible, but only after inventing everything she possibly could. Maybe she could take a holiday one day, even though T’Challa was against it. (The Guardians had given them all good locations to visit).

Shuri eventually convinced them all to leave her room. She was tired and needed rest, as much as it was enjoyable to talk to them, she wanted to sleep. T’Challa eyed Steve and Bucky before he headed off to do some duties of his. He was still a bit miffed about Bucky needing time away, instead of staying in Wakanda.

When they got to their quarters, they fell against the couch, sagging into it. It had been a day and a half. They woke up to the stars and ended up in Wakanda again. It was their favourite place, where they had settled and made a life. Maybe they still missed America, but they had never built anything in Brooklyn, the war took them away from that. Their life here was better. And they had goats to look after when they weren’t away.

“Do you ever wonder if this is where it ends?” Bucky asked, curling into Steve.

“If a place is the end of the line, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“I do.” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky. “Wakanda is… It’s the place I’d want it all to end.”

Bucky buried his head into Steve’s chest. “Will we… end it?”

“I don’t know… Sam once said I can’t do anything suicidal.”

They both let out this dark, morbid laugh. 111 and 110. That’s how old they were. If they went on for another decade and a bit, they would be the oldest (recorded) human beings to ever live. They wanted to live their lives to the full, live the years they lost. If that was the case, they would have to live to the 2080s. A long time away.

“If– when we die. It will be here,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, yeah, it will.”

\--

With the year being 2028, an important date was coming up. It was good Shuri decided to wake in late April, it allowed Steve and Bucky to be home for this. And because of what this anniversary was, a decade, they decided to stay in their quarters for that particular day.

Although, Steve got up hours before Bucky, waiting for him to wake up as he sat on a block of metal that had been carved into a fancy table. The corners had been rounded off and the metal had been rubbed down and polished. While Steve sat, he scrolled through their tablet while sipping some coffee.

“Is that a block of tin?” Bucky asked, leaning on his elbow.

Steve smiled. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

Bucky flopped back down, chuckling. “Happy anniversary. I see you decided to really go for the tin gift.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Right.” He rolled over and picked something out of the bedside table. He threw it to Steve, who caught it with ease.

It was a bracelet, with a tin charm attached. It was a dolphin; an animal Steve had come to admire when he got bored and researched animals. He slid it onto his wrist and smiled.

“Dolphins are kind, like you,” Bucky said, jumping out of bed and stealing Steve’s coffee. He took a few sips, handing it back after and kissed Steve.

When they escaped their quarters, at midday, they headed to the lab, where Shuri was supposed to be. She had made a quick and full recovery and had jumped straight back into research, under the watchful eye of a few scientists making sure Shuri was _always_ safe. (T’Challa’s orders).

When they got there, Shuri gave them a knowing smirk. Steve and Bucky rolled their eyes and found stools to sit on while Shuri began messing with a fizzing – effervescent, as Shuri would say – test tube with a bung in it.

“Is that liquid vibranium again?” Bucky questioned, folding his arms.

“No, if you _looked_ , it’s solid and in some hydrochloric acid.” She nodded to the 1M bottle next to the test tube rack.

“Why?”

“Because I’m checking something.” She pulled the bung out and dunked a match into the tube. There was a squealing pop, almost like a bang with how loud it was. “HA! I told you it would be loud, Emene!”

“Please warn us next time!” Emene shouted back, chuckling.

Shuri turned to Steve and Bucky, looking quite proud of herself. “Happy anniversary, two mates of the soul.”

Steve chuckled, along with Bucky. They shared and glance and shook their heads.

“So, you’re proving people wrong now?” Bucky wondered.

“It’s what I was born to do.” She smiled and placed her hands on Steve and Bucky’s shoulders. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years…”

“Me neither,” Steve said, staring into the distance. “It feels like yesterday.”

Bucky grasped Steve’s hand. “And you look just as beautiful as that day.”

“You complain about my hair every goddamn day.”

“Do I? I hadn’t noticed.” He brushed Steve’s bangs out of his eyes. “You just need a haircut.”

Shuri giggled and turned back to her work station. “I love how you’re an old married couple.”

“Yeah, we certainly are. Old souls here.” Bucky did a mock salute.

Steve laughed and leant close to Bucky, as if he was about to tell a secret. “You’re such a dork.”

“Says the dork.”

Shuri sighed, happily. “So married…”

“You say that dreamily like you don’t have a partner waiting on you,” Steve said, chuckling lightly.

“Marriage will tie me down.”

Both Steve and Bucky rolled their eyes.

“That’s what I said, before I tied myself down and stayed put,” Steve said.

Shuri shook her head. “Your circumstances were far different.”

“Marriage changes you, but it makes you better. Having that tie brings reassurance,” Bucky recited. Rita and Dot had been wise for a reason.

“You have a point.” She turned to them, leaning against the table. “I’ll think about it.”

Steve and Bucky looked to each other, smiling. That was a success in their book. Shuri would get married one day, when she felt like it. Maybe they could plan a wedding, make it a tradition. Although, from personal experience, the two knew that having a wedding planned for you put on too much pressure.

They rested back on their stools and messed around on their tablet, replying to messages from all their friends. Sam sent something about recovery and marriage being a perfect match. Nat sent one hundred winky faces. Tony said something about celebrating with Viagra infused wine. Everyone else mainly sent happy wishes for their anniversary, though, Peter sent a link to a video of people celebrating this joyous occasion, for some reason or other.

Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, had a perfect way to celebrate. Once they had drank a bit of wine and had a bit of food, they dragged each other into the bedroom. Slowly undressing each other in ways that got them all hot and bothered in every sense. But patience was something they had learnt over the years.

Though, as Bucky helped Steve remove his pants, he broke down in laughter and hid his face in the pillow. Steve giggled away at his little joke, his anniversary joke really. It was… well. He was wearing blue tights with blue booty shorts on top. Like the original uniform.

“Is this…” Bucky heaved in breaths as he laughed, “original?”

“No. But does it still inconvenience you?”

Bucky’s eyes roamed over Steve, him being shirtless certainly added to the effect. He let out a shuddering breath and pulled Steve on top of him. “Yes,” he said, hoarsely as he kissed Steve with an urgency he hadn’t realised before.

When the shorts and tights were discarded, teasing ensued. Just because. Eventually, there were tangled sheets and two young old men cuddling into each other. There was a serenity in the room, where they could feel the safest, surrounded by their memoires and good times. In fact, now, every corner of the room had a picture in it. A room where no thought was lost.

Steve lay dramatically on Bucky chest, wanting to be awkward while also needing to hear that wonderous joyful laugh from Bucky. Steve smiled at him, seeing every part of his favourite expression. Bucky ran his knuckles along Steve’s beard, chuckling as Steve yawned.

“It needs a trim,” Bucky said, moving his hand to play with Steve’s bangs.

“You trim it.”

“I will.”

They sat in silence for a while, with Bucky playing with Steve’s hair while Steve hummed some tune from the ’30s. He was in that sort of mood, where he was reminiscing about all the old times. Bucky caught the general gist of the tune, concluding that Steve was humming along to ‘The Song Is You’. And suddenly, they were both humming along to the song, occasionally singing the lyrics too. It was a perfect day.

“How long do you wanna live?” Steve wondered. It really had been on their minds lately. They’d been thinking of their future ever since Shuri found explicit evidence that their telomeres didn’t shorten, a few days before she absorbed liquid vibranium into her system. It was something that _had_ to discuss.

Bucky twisted his mouth in thought. “Long enough to see the Reststop become the best bar in the galaxy.”

“That’ll never happen.”

“Just… If we’re together, we’ll know when this ends.”

“When the losses get too much?”

“Yeah.” Bucky cupped Steve’s jaw, looking him in the eyes, all loving. “Now, if you don’t mind, can I see you in those tights again?”

Steve laughed and scrambled off the bed, struggling a little to get the tights on. He had scrunch them up, so it was easier (and quicker) to get them on. He donned the booty shorts and smirked at Bucky, who was already feeling inconvenienced because of the tightly fitted tights. Steve placed his hands at his hips, standing tall.

“Captain America at your service.”

Bucky burst out in laughter, crawling to the edge of the bed and dragging Steve onto it. He hovered over Steve, running a hand down his chest. He grasped the tights and pulled at the fabric, letting go to allow it to snap back into position. Steve smirked as Bucky was surely taking in just how the tights looked on him again.

Bucky sucked in a breath and placed his hand over Steve’s heart. “I love you.”

Steve leant up and kissed Bucky thoroughly. He flopped back down after. “I love you too.”

\--

Two women walked among a mass of children. All were holding baby goats in their arms, coddling them. Some of the goats slept while others baaed. Nevertheless, everyone was smiling slightly, walking up to a spot by a group of trees. It overlooked the lake. A point to see every wonderful part of the day.

“Settle down,” one woman told the children. “Go on, sit.”

All the children sat down, relaxing their arms as the goats either curled in their laps or found a space to lie on the grass. They stared out towards the lake, only looking to a stone next to them for a second. The women frowned, their shoulders hunched.

One child perked up and began telling a story, soon having everyone laughing and giggling. They all stared at the stone– the grave mournfully when the story ended. Another child laughed, their goat squirming in the lap, as they began telling another story, one everyone knew well. The two women made sure to correct the children if some details were exaggerated too much.

The lettering within the black headstone was gold. Carved into it were two names. Personal words that acted as list of who they were. The year of death. There was a symbol, an S and a B woven into each other.

Marked within the stone was the number 2218.

And in small writing at the very bottom was a phrase known so well.

 _The end of the line_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr!!](http://kateis-cakeis.tumblr.com/)


End file.
